third wheels
by Tessie13
Summary: "I think I'd like to try falling in love with you." — AustinAlly. Once their best friends Trish and Dez start dating, Austin and Ally realize they'll have to spend a lot more time together. AU.
1. Talkings & Shockings

**Disclaimer: **so, I kind of hate to disappoint all of you that figured out my secret identity and discovered that I am, indeed, a writer on the ever popular Disney channel show, Austin & Ally. HA! If only...no, I'm a loser with no life and a computer.

**Inspiration: **I got hit with this epic plot idea for a multichapter after looking over all the Caini tags on tumblr and, being the idiot I am, I put Marina and The Diamonds on repeat and started writing. I have a total of twelve—including this one—chapters planned and each will be around three thousand words, hopefully. I can't promise updates because I'm lazy and I'm sure my sudden splurge on inspiration will soon come to a crash and burn. (I've got a chapter for going to be gone in the works and a brilliant one shot idea that's taunting me as we speak).

**Summary: **"I think I'd like to try falling in love with you." — AustinAlly. Once Trish and Dez start dating, the two realize they'll have to spend a lot more time together.

**A/N: **oh, hey there. What's up? Bet you weren't expecting to see me! I'm such a loser... Anyways, I have to warn you that this will be a chaotic fic and have hints towards adult themes as well as the occasional swear word. Everybody will be OOC because I want to take different spins on the characters (mainly because I want Ally to be more of a slut because a girl that beautiful would have half of Miami breaking down her door and the show doesn't justify that). Don't like, don't read. I apologize for the sloppy writing and please note this will the the most boring chapter.

**Dedication**: this lovely chapter is going out to **livelyfingered **because she is incredibly talented and modest and ridiculously nice. If you haven't already read some of her work make sure to and leave her a super sweet review while you're at it.

* * *

"So, what? Are you guys, like, official then?" The orange ball comes in contact with the loosely strung net, a swooshing sound ringing into the air just as the sphere falls back into the blonde's hands.

"I guess. I mean, last night I called her my girlfriend and she didn't slap me or anything, so I'm taking it as a good sign," Dez unsurely answered as an involuntarily grin skated across his lips. Austin shakes his head in ridicule, laughter uttering from his elated up turned lips.

"What did you say her name was again?" The shorter of the two asks, throwing the rubber soled ball against the net hooked upon the bedroom wall.

"Trish," the red head answers, his beam growing as his head shyly turns to face the ground, a light blush gracing the surface of his checks.

"Is this the same Trish that gave you a swirly last semester?" Slips past his lips in shock, an incredulous look filling within his eyes as they grow broader with curiosity.

Dez's head kicks back in laughter, the fondness of reminiscing laced in the undertones. "Yeah, it is."

Austin choruses out a 'dude' before their both laughing at their own stupidity. The television clicks on and within seconds the rows of zombies crowding the screens are met with the brutal bashing in of their brains, guts galore and graphics glorious. Dez calls to his mother on the first floor above them, demanding mushroom pizza and gallons of Red Bull.

"Trish hates the stuff," he leans over to tell him with the slight roll of his eyes, and Austin momentarily wishes that he could chime in with grunts and complaints about his own relationship: the only problem is, he's never been more aware that he's alone.

It's not like he's at a complete loss; he's still coming off of a four month high with resident head cheerleader, Kira Star. Sure, two months might have passed since they mutually broke it off—so maybe she broke up with him, but he had seen it coming and needs pride, okay?—and he's still in a bit of a slump in the dating department, but there's bound to be a break coming his way.

The thing is, it's kind of hard to forget how cute she looked when her eyes rimmed out and her lips pouted, wearing her signature puppy dog face as if it were her profession. Also, the way she could bend those long legs, god, it's enough to keep any guy hooked for months on end—

So it's kind of hard to sit here and talk to Dez about relationships because he's—honestly—over Kira and ready for the next romance, but no opportunity has exactly come knocking down his front door.

"And, dude, you'd never expect her to be that good of a kisser, but she _is—"_

He's starting to realize that he's taking notice of girls in different ways, like whether or not they smile with both their top and bottom teeth and if their eyebrows are actually symmetrical. He's not completely convinced this is a normal changing of habit, but he also figures it's a nice change of pace due to the fact it makes him a tad bit classier: he figures it's better to notice the chipping polish on their nails rather than the shortness of their skirts.

The fact of the matter is, he's developed enough to realize he's an extremely hormonal teenage boy that has a distinct type to fit his abnormally high requests: and that means being a part of the cheer leading squad—so he can be sure that you're flexible enough for his _needs—_and having a nice enough face to maybe doing some making out with. It's a brutally honest fact that he's come to conclusion with, but he can't remember a time when he's felt so incredibly single and is questioning whether or not his standards are shifting.

Dez had never seemed this happy, simpering eyes paired with a chaste and sheepish grin as he attempted containing his flush at the sheer mention of Trish. Granted, Dez had always gone for an indifferent type and the few relationships he had been in were more geared towards money being spent, but he'd always been confident under his own skin and it seems to be paying off.

He's only ever had a real connection with two of his past flames—Kira, of course, and the forever lovely Cassidy that had been a fleeting summer romance that ended once she jetted back to Hollywood. He sometimes found it in himself to miss the way she was just as passionate about music as he was, how they used to sing together and how he struggled to teach her guitar.

There are plenty of girls in his music class, some of them being double threats and having an almost decent voice that can sometimes leave goose bumps on the cusp of his skin. He notices himself beginning to stare at each and every one of them with deep concentration, trying to picture himself spending late nights laughing over the excuses of songs that are currently gracing the top of the charts and flirtatiously fighting over who had the most talent between the two of them. He likes the way he has these relationships made up, as if they'd actually be able to have a conversation that both of them are being engaged and attentive to: the only problem is, he's never exactly made an attempt to befriend any of these band junkies, so he can't expect them to be eager to date him if he worked up the nerve to ask. (There's also the fact that he'd have to go and learn all their names, and right now he's a bit more comfortable in his own clique of stereotypical football jocks and ditzy blondes.)

"What's it like, to, you know, be in love?" Austin asks tentatively in an imperceptibly awkward tone, eyes clearly averting each other in frivolously bashful ways. Dez traces over his friends form as his game counsel falls to his lap, his expression reading that he's taken aback by the seriousness underlining in Austin's articulation.

Then his lips fall apart into laughter as he forms an answer, "Honestly, you don't even realize you're in it, because it feels like you have been ever since you first met them. At least, that's how it's been with Trish and me."

Austin nods his head in understanding because he thinks that there is a high possibility that someday he might feel that exact way about someone. "But, like, don't you feel at all different?"

"You'd think so, but really all that's changed is I don't think about Zaliens as much as I think about her now. It's like, I just want to always be around her and even when I am I feel like I can get closer. I'm not sure; it feels like it could be a lot like how the movies make it out to be."

He wonders when this became normal, for himself and Dez to get into long and intimate conversations about their respective love lives: despite the fact he's pretty positive that he's never fully been in love, but he's sang songs about it and can imagine it decently well. He reminds himself to be thankful that he has a best friend like Dez, who can play a killer shooting guard on the basketball court and stuff his face with all the junk food handed his way, but at the same time is cool enough to talk about all those unsure feelings that most guys are a bit too embarrassed to admit to having: plus, he gives the absolute best advice and is hilariously awesome.

"Do you think you guys will last?" Austin asks in a quiet voice, treading into deep waters as the zombies on the television screen fade into the background of their conversation and attention.

Dez looks down to his hands and Austin gets a vibe that his best friend is afraid of the answer. "Well, I really want us to."

A beat of silence falls into the open air and neither of them can manage to look at each other's faces for fear of recognizing unwanted emotions.

"I think you'll really like her, Austin. She can totally be one of the guys and is crazy funny and super sassy. She's smart and—you'll like this—has the best taste in music. I mean, Pierce the Veil and Queen? Her playlists are the best."

Austin nods once more and a simple smile begins to grace his lips as he begins to picture himself talking over different classic rock bands with his newly acquainted friend. He's momentarily glad that his best bud can pick his girls better than he can himself.

"And you know? I'm pretty sure her best friend is single. We could so set you guys up," Dez adds with a smirk and whether or not he meant that as ridicule, Austin thinks that he might just have to look into that.

"Shut up and go get me my pizza," is all he responds with and for some reason they both crack up at this remark.

Once he rolls his car into his own driveway, his mind begins to prance along about this best friend of Trish's—he likes to picture her as an ultra bendable babe in too tight of skirts, but also with as good of a music selection as himself with a voice as stunning as her smile.

Right before he drifts off to sleep he scoffs to himself and mocks his impossible fantasy of this so called best friend somehow being the exact girl of his dreams: he'll be lucky if she doesn't pick her nose, he has to remind himself as he weighs the odds against one another.

* * *

"You have _got _to be kidding me, Trish," Ally starts as her hand meets her forehead in a melodramatic face palm, "why didn't you tell me you guys were getting so serious!"

Trish moves the file expertly over her trimmed nails, not looking up from her pampering project as an entertained smirk begins to dance onto her face. "Cause I didn't realize we were until he called me his girlfriend last night. I mean, we've been dating for, like, two months now, but I figured that he just needed to make some cheerleader jealous or something."

Ally promptly rolls her eyes as her fingers train upon on overly bright coral polish. "Dez doesn't seem like the cheerleader type, Trish."

The raven haired girl emits a content sigh and pauses her actions abruptly. "He's a total sweetheart, isn't he?"

Giggles roll off her tongue as she sees her best friend lose herself in thought of her brand new boyfriend, an official title learned last night. "I just can't believe it took him so long to make you guys an actual item."

"Can you really blame the guy, though? He probably thought I'd curse him out or reveal to the whole school that he still sleeps with a teddy bear," Trish retorts in his defense as Ally begins to laugh harder, "Besides, it's not like I haven't been faithfully playing hard to get."

Ally shrugs in slight understanding, her eyes flashing from the television set playing _Glee_ reruns and her perfectly painted nails. "Still, I think the kid could've hiked up his skirt a bit sooner."

Trish releases a small shrug and devotes the rest of her remaining attention to her clear coated toenails and constant text messages from the one and only Dez. "I think I like how he waited. It's like he wanted to make sure I wasn't just joking around, and this way I know he isn't joking around either."

Ally gives one more inclination of her head before silencing herself, her tongue being ruthlessly held back by her thoughts swallowing her whole. She figures that she'll allow the topic to rest for a minute or two: after all, she knows how Trish likes to respect her privacy.

Also, she remembers how tentative and patient Trish had been about Elliot: she figures that it couldn't hurt to return the favor. Her eight month flame with the dark haired boy had ended a short month ago, the Valentine's Day roses just deciding to die a mere week prior.

It seems as if she had a hard habit of falling too quickly for too long of a time, what with her year and a half long relationship with Ethan that spanned over her freshman and sophomore years. She's not extremely used to being single and is trying to take it as a blessing in disguise, the fact that she knew Elliot and herself had been fizzling out for a solid two months now a helpful reminder.

Still, her clever mind can't help but fixate over how she hasn't received a single flirty glance from anyone in her music theory class—and she knows for a fact that one or two of the guys couldn't keep their eyes off her scandalously exposed legs in her shape fitting short dresses. She's beginning to question whether or not she's losing her charm, but that's almost absurd considering the winks and honks sent her way when she drives through town in her sparkling Lamborghini Gallardo.

"Plus, you wouldn't think that he'd be good with all the romantic stuff, but he's such a great kisser and has got to be the cutest thing ever—"

She almost forgets that Trish is sitting directly next to her, gushing and raving over her latest love with no signs of stopping. Usually, she's an excellent listener and adds in her own compliments or sassy remarks, but today's she's feeling as if she has a right to be a bit self indulgent—and then she wonders if Trish had ever felt like this during one of her own lengthy rants.

It's almost weird to hear about how far the new couple has gotten—granted, it's barely hit second base but still—considering she's always known her Trish to be a bit of a prude and conservative of her body. She wishes she could relate, but seeing as it seems as if all her life she's been in some sort of a serious relationship it's been hard for herself to keep the same morals as Trish—though it hasn't gotten around her school exactly what she's willingly done without hesitation and has to count her blessings for that.

She does hold some regrets within the labyrinth of her heart—because the back of a car isn't romantic and is actually quite quaint and uncomfortable—and sometimes wishes she had taken a more ladylike approach to some of her encounters, but the fact of the matter is she's a seventeen year old woman that's capable of her own decisions.

Even if that means that she's been at a loss of innocence for roughly a year now, but she knows not to dwell on things for long because she knows, truly, that deep down at one point she felt that she was doing the right thing. She's learned to trust her own judgment and it hasn't leaded her too astray so far. Not to mention how her life leaves her bursting at the seams with inspiration for her songwriting.

"Do you think that you're in love?" Ally manages out with caution, knowing of Trish's burnt past and how she has a few issues and sensitivities with the topic of trust.

Trish releases a long blow of air and looks deeply into Ally's eyes, honesty reflecting in her dark eyes. "Honey, I know I am."

Ally lets a squeal of excitement pass her lips and her smile begins to consume her entire face, along with her obvious elation for her best friend. "This is adorable!"

The only thing that Trish can think for the moment is how, in actuality, the only thing adorable in this instance is how excited Ally gets when she finds out that her love for love is being fulfilled.

"Do you think he'd want to come by Sonic Boom sometime?" She asks after a five minute block of comfortable silence has sat between them.

"Why," Trish responds, questioningly glancing her up and down with a curious eye, wondering exactly what her best friend could be up to.

Ally is overcome with another wide smile, only this one holding more hints of sheepishness and virtuous. "I want to make sure he's good enough for my best friend, of course."

Trish bites down on her lip to contain her smile, but then they both begin to hold their stomachs as they laugh at the thought of Ally being menacing and vicious to anyone: still, it's flattering that she cares about her friends to such a degree.

"Trust me Ally, he is. I think that you'll like him. I mean, he's pretty quirky and awkward, but he's also such a softie and he's the funniest thing I've ever met. And, when you first meet him you'd think that he's stupid, but he gets better grades then me and gives even better advice than you do."

She takes a moment to be faux offended, but they begin to laugh again and Ally takes a second to appreciate how easy going and critically honest Trish truly is.

"And, I know his friend Austin is single, if you're already sick of being without a man," Trish quips with sarcasm drizzled within her words, but she can tell by her flickering eyes that it's an actual opportunity that could be pursued.

Ally shakes her head as she begins to giggle once more, "Oh please, you just want someone to double date with that you don't hate."

"Guilty," she admits with a giggle of her own and a slight shrug before giving Ally a light shove and throwing on an old romantic comedy and breaking out the sleeping bags.

Ally's mind falls asleep to thinking over this Austin, and what in the world he could be like. She makes him out to be slightly stereotypical, probably on the football and basketball teams, a popular jock with a shocking smile and bright eyes to match. She can guarantee that he's moderately attractive in order for Trish to remember his name, and can assume that he must have somewhat decent virtues if he is best friends with someone as sweet as Trish has made Dez out to be.

Although, her life is just a tad bit cruel, so she's left to think at he's most likely a widely known jerk that has a habit of getting into fist fights and drug deals.

* * *

**A/N: **I'd be honestly surprised and flattered if you read the gigantic note at the top, and thank you if you did. This is my first multichapter with a constant plot line and I'm quite excited :p don't be afraid to leave a review :)

xoxo


	2. Meetings & Greetings

**Disclaimer**: I really love how openly admitting the fact that I don't actually own Austin & Ally makes me want to cry

**Inspiration****:**This chapter was supposed to be slightly less boring but its still not very good, my sincerest apologies. Anyways, my brother and best friend have been dating and lately I've had to play the part of third wheel, so I'm guessing this is some form of my twisted emotions because what better way than to channel them out through Auslly? Chapter three is in the making and I hope you all continue to love this story as much as you have.

**A/N: **I am feeling ridiculously lazy right now so this is going to be short and sweet: I love you all so much for the overwhelming support I'm receiving and just hope you know how much I appreciate it. I'm trying to write more often so I can keep posting for you guys.

**Dedication: ** this goes out to **When. In. Doubt-Write. It. Out. **because she's a lovely person with a lovely talent and feel that she deserves all the attention in the world.

* * *

The sun is light, folding in and out the clouds just as the breeze folds in and out of his wispy hair. Dez strides far ahead of him, long legs being utilized with every leap forward, and he stalks slowly behind him slightly dreading the impending encounter. Also, it's before twelve on a Saturday and the sunglasses adorning his face are doing a terrific job at shielding out the sun and masking the bags drilled into the underneath of his eyes.

Supposedly, Trish had been slightly eager to not only see Dez but get the four of them together to officially meet. He had made Trish out to be a girl that likes her sleep—considering how many times he's overheard her curse Dez out for waking her up before at least noon, reminding him a lot of himself in fact—and was quite disappointed that this little meet and greet couldn't be postponed till a later hour.

Although it would be a lie if he had said that he wasn't at least a little excited about meeting Trish's best friend—he vaguely recalls Dez saying her name started with an 'A' or maybe an 'E'. Dez had failed to mention anything else about her, the mysterious anticipation building up within him.

He steps within the store and immediately feels an aura that he could get used to: the lively colors, the instruments strewn in meticulous order upon the walls. His eyes dart as they take in the amusement, Dez resting on the counter with who he assumes to be Trish: a short and tanned Latina with overly curly hair that flowed past her waist and a smile that almost matched the width of Dez's.

His ears suddenly perk up as he begins to listen to the insistent flooding of piano chords, a fluent mess of octaves that fit in mesmerizing patterns. His face flashes into an instant smile, appreciative and ensnared as he begins to bob his head along with the beat forming in the undertone of the notes. It's almost as if this piece is a blend of current pop with dashes of all the commonly known rock and subtle hints towards the actual classics by all the big names in history: it's a mastery level of art, an obvious original.

His eyes finally think to fall upon the only grand piano within the store, a massive and glazed sea of black and white keys, the entire body a deeply dark black that stretches on for days. Even better, tiny hands attached to an equally petite figure sit on the bench and finger over the different melodies, hair blocking out even her jaw line: there's something about her seemingly endless passion, though—like the way her whole form moves to her music, looking in sync and concentrated and as if she's in a world designed only for herself—that has him convinced that she's got to be some sort of an unconventional beauty.

He dances his way over to the scene, not entirely sure why he was suddenly busting out his sweet moves but then again, it's most definitely a good sign when music makes him irrational. He plops down onto the space left available and the girl's movements stop with an impulsive urgency, swiveling towards his abrupt figure with her mouth curved into a surprised oval.

His beam broadens as her features develop before him: vast brown eyes that could have songs written about them, a nose sloping down into her bow shaped lips that he could already envision being beautiful in a smile. A flawless porcelain complexion, arching check bones poking slightly out and ringlets framing around her entire head: it's a no doubt in his mind that she's a total hottie.

"Ah, can I help you?" The girl suddenly reams out, her lips scrunching to one side in an amused smirk as she begins to collect the sheet music off of the piano.

"You could start with your name," he added in, a wink excreted out and a slight head nod that would normally be paired with a 'sup, sexy': he reminded himself to save that for later, because with a girl this cute—her actual smile flashed for a second and he was _so_ right, it was totally pretty—there was defiantly going to be a later.

She continued to give him a grin, glancing down and up as she checked out his body, "I can't picture that being much help." She grabs her stack of paper and moves from their seating arrangements, walking to the front desk and protectively tucked it into one of the shelves underneath. He watches her retreating shape, admiring her curvaceous form from behind—and _damn,_ that skin tight skirt sure did know how to hold in those hips.

"Oh come on, I really want to know it," he lets out in a teasingly desperate tone, standing to meet her and using his new found height advantages—those heels she had on her feet still kept her a good half a foot underneath his eyes. "And I bet you wouldn't hate to know mine."

Her head falls with giggles and she flirtatiously looks up to him, a closed smile resting on her lips comfortably and as she forms an answer on her tongue, Trish decides to intervene on the intriguing scene playing out before her.

"So Ally, I see you met Austin," she butts in abruptly with and both the blonde and brunette look from each other to their respective best friends, panic sneaking in with expressions as it sealed into their emotions. Their mouths both fall open in a gap, stuttering out incoherent sentences and half points at one another's faces: Dez and Trish have a hard time keeping their entertained ridiculing laughter from falling out of their racking chests.

"I had _no _idea you were Austin, oh my _god_ is this awkward—"

"I didn't even _know_ you were Ally, I wouldn't have ever _hit _on you for Christ's sake—"

"So you were hitting on me?"

"With an ass like that, of course I was, I mean—"

"I'm going to stop you right there before I lose all moral respect for you," she says while holding up a hand and squeezing her widened eyes closed. She composes herself as she opens them once more, her hand moving down from its gesture and into one more fitted for a hand shake.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I'm your best friend's girlfriend's best friend, Ally Dawson."

His unnerved grimace twists back into an easy going grin, his hand meeting hers in a friendly shake as he begins to introduce himself as well. "I'm Austin Moon, you're best friend's boyfriend's best friend."

She giggles slightly and he tries to hate the sound of it, because he really needs to now given the circumstances. He shyly smirks down to her and almost feels as if he is blushing, with the heat rising through his neck and past his checks straight to his ears.

"Well, now I'm bored," Trish interrupts with, clear displeasure with the encounter folding out between the two in front of her written within her frowning face.

They look into one another's eyes, him noticing the light dusting of pink fading onto her face and he figures she must be noticing the bluntly crimson shade of the tips of his ears. Impish looks pool into both of their eyes as their faces sketch out sheepish expressions, half upturned lips through uncomfortable prying eyes of their friends.

Oh, how that meeting could've gone over smoother.

* * *

"Is this really yours? Like, every instrument in here?" He asks in a wonder, admiring her practice room and its walls lined with almost as many musical instruments as the downstairs portion of the store.

She spins in a slow circle, her eyes tracing over every corner of the room as if this was her first time actually seeing it all, too. "Yeah, it is," she answers slowly, content laced within every word and her eyes are flashing and fading into a deepening honey color.

She swivels back to face him, her lips cracking apart into a timid grin, "Would you like to hear me play something?"

Right as he begins to answer with a beam and an enthusiastic nod, a loud crash emits from outside of the ajar door and both run to see what had clashed and the damage remaining.

Dez stood in the center of the first floor, the neck of a cherry red electric Gibson guitar clutched in his trembling hands, his guilt ridden expression almost enough of a distraction from the discomposed base of the same guitar, shattered and scattered all over the floor.

"You have _got _to be kidding me," she sighs out with an extreme roll of her eyes and histrionic sigh. Turning to him before moving to descend down the stairs, she adds in, "And I thought Trish was destructive."

He laughs aloud and likes to think that with her witty sass and his ever present sarcasm, they could have immensely amazing repartee.

* * *

Once Ally inspects the damage to her apparent highest priced and most valuable Gibson model, she's scolding to Dez in a light but evidently dangerous tone that the mutilation is irrevocably irreversible. She ushers him out before he can even manage to blink after he informs her that he doesn't have the money to pay for the destruction. Austin tips his head to her and sends a half smile, proceeding out the door and attempts to catch up to his ride out of the mall.

He's passing through the food court, feet dashing at an alarming chaste as Dez turns the corner and leaves his line of sight: then she calls after his regressing figure and clasps her dainty fingers around his forearm to desist his haste.

"Wait, Austin," she says, her orbs inclusive in a frantic manner, hair blown out from the run she must have done to manage to catch him just in time, "I need your number."

He raises an eyebrow inquisitively before reaching for his phone, handing it over to her as he takes hers in return and opens a new contact. "Still trying to flirt, are we?" He teases as he slides away his newly equipped iPhone.

She rolls her eyes, playing along with faux exasperation. "Yeah, right. You're a bit too Hollywood for me, bud. Lose the neon high tops and maybe we'll talk."

He smiles and laughs at her clever quip, and then she continues on, "But no. I just thought that we'll probably be seeing more of each other, and I don't know, it might come in handy for you to let me know what time a movie we're all going to see is, or vice versa."

He nods in understanding. "Smart. I'll catch you later, okay Ally?" He pats her on the arm before heading off in the opposite direction, sending a glance over his shoulder as he rounds the corner and catches a glimpse of the wave she was sending him.

He meets Dez in the car, slamming the door shut and switching on radio as per usual.

"So, what'd you think?" Dez investigates, a sly smirk playing across his face and Austin insinuates what he had meant by the taunting wink.

"She's alright. I mean, she certainly knows how to talk," he answers with, trying to brush Ally off as no big deal: even though he can kind of tell that she so totally is.

"Dude, you talked way more than her."

He shrugs and his head turns to gaze out the window, city lights flashing in and out of his view. "I don't even know her, dude. We just met."

The rest of the ride is slightly stiff with its unusual quietness, but Austin speaks with his silence and Dez receives all the messages loud and clear.

* * *

Trish eagerly whirls around after flipping the sign to read closed, letting know to all the customers that they're too late and that the shop is packing up for the day. She stalks to the front counter, catching Ally off guard as she smacks her hands roughly upon the surface, a loud clouting noise breaking through the sound barrier.

She shakes her head up, eyes widened due to the startlingly abrupt actions of her friend.

"Yes, Trish?" She asks in a playful manner, shutting her book in a mellifluous motion of her hand while capturing and resting her face in the other.

"Do I really have to point out the fact that an extremely attractive male just came in here and basically asked for your hand in marriage?"

Ally has to grasp the corners of the counter to keep her figure standing while she's overcome with boundless bundles of laughter. "Trish, he's not even the type of guy I'm normally friends with," she says in between holding her stomach and wiping her eyes. "And now I'm suddenly being wedded off to him?"

"You can't deny that the two of you have chemistry!" The raven haired girl reasoned, hands flailing around for dramatic effect as she argued her case. "Besides the fact that if I hadn't told you that he was Austin, you would've totally gotten together right then and there."

"Uh, no. And by the sounds of it, he's being run by his hormones, and I need someone who can look past my ass."

Trish sighs and begins to prop herself upon the counter, her shoulders slumping into a discreet shrug as she proceeds with her next statement. "You are being ridiculous. And if you shove that damn bubble butt into a skirt like that, you're going to draw attention and you know that. Besides the fact that you had offered to take him up to your private practice room."

Ally stays silent as she wracks her mind for an excusable alibi. "He likes music."

Her friend quirks an eyebrow and begins to laugh over the ridiculousness of the entire situation. "Ally, you've got to be kidding me."

"The point is, I don't even know the first thing about him: besides the fact he's totally cocky and a typical teenage boy."

"That's a lie: you also know that you're eventually going have to put up with that attitude of his because you both are going to be seeing a lot more of each other. The sooner you get over the fact that you can totally see you and him being together, the sooner you stop feeling so awkward."

The shorter of the two hops down off the counter and struts out of the door, hips swaying with every melodramatic step of sass. Ally emits an audible sigh, stuffing her attention into her lyrics and tries to ignore the feeling that she's been plunged deep into a soap opera instead of her normal reality.

The fact of the matter is yes, she did see the sparks igniting in his eyes when they caught with her own: she knew that without all the strings attached they'd be able to get lost within their own brand of confusion and confessions. As soon as they turn around though, they'll see their best friends locked at the lips, and then they have to start questioning the effects of peer pressure and the pressing factor of loneliness. Plus, it's a quite truthful certainty that they don't know the first plausible actuality about one another and it's a bit unfair if either of them start to pretend that they do.

She feels the need to sit as her mind spins around her flushed thoughts, the nausea intensifying as she came to the conclusion that she was most likely over thinking this all, as per usual.

She sits at the piano and her hands subconsciously move, panning across the wide open space that she knows to make her own. This natural, she is a natural and she feels herself lifting into clearer skies and she begins to soar once more.

Her head barks at her that they'll be friends, of course they will, because he's obviously funny and she likes to laugh. They'll become friends because it's not as if strangers can have romantic compatibility, she falls for the known despite the fact she chases after the unknown. He'll teach her a thing or two about being carefree and that's all she'll let herself expect from the relationship: not just for now, forever.

She hears a faint vibration through her maddening chord progression and clicks open the new message blinking upon her phone screen.

_Wanna catch a movie and dinner with Dez and Trish tomorrow? Don't feel like being a third wheel alone_.

She reads, and she can see his hesitant and almost shy smile in her mind, his eyes pleading because he's not quite ready to face the fact that he has no other girl to ask but her. She suppresses the notion of sighing and types a response with diffident and tentative hands.

_If I wind up having no plans tomorrow night, sure thing._

She sees his face falling once he comes across the words, but she can't help it: she's not keen on spending an evening where the sole of her attention is distributed on him.

_Well, you just got plans. I'll pick you up at Trish's with Dez around seven. Make sure to wear another skirt ;)._

This time a wheezing noise escapes past her sealed lips, a concoction of a giggle and sigh all rolled together into one.

_If I catch you staring at my ass I'm leaving early. I don't feel like whipping drool of your chin, buddy._

She hears his laughter and begins to question her mental sanity because they've only just met but they've got their banter down as if they've been practicing it with each other for countless years.

She's just afraid that tomorrow night she might have to officially befriend him, and that will seal up the fact that they'll have to spend even more time together. She can't exactly decide on whether or not Austin's a good or bad addition to her life because he's come in like a blurring sand storm and she is a bit afraid that he might leave the exact same way.

* * *

**A/N: **let me know what you guys think :D hit me up on tumblr if you need someone to rant to about how Disney cheated us with the lack of a promo and the random but still hilarious (but still auslly lacking) episode that was Freaky Fridays & Fan Fiction

xoxo


	3. Dates & Dancing

**Dedication: **this chappie is going out to **Miss-Rainy-Skies **even though I haven't talked to here in ages, but as you all most likely know she is a hilarious treasure with an overwhelmingly beautiful talent. Her story Damage Control is one of the most popular throughout our archive and if you haven't already read and reviewed, go do that now. :)

**Disclaimer: **if any of us actually owned this television show i have a very high hunch that Ally would pregnant and Austin would walk around without a shirt on, always.

**Inspiration****:** obviously, the enormous amounts of positive feedback I have been receiving for this fic is helping me push forward and I sincerely cannot thank you all enough. Thankyouthankyouthankyou :). Other than that, I had gone to wicked a week ago and that explains the random dialogue about Broadway shows, and I constantly listen to Pandora which led to Fat Bottomed Girls playing on my classic rock station and I really fell in love with the thought of Austin and Ally dancing in a random street while he sings it to her.

**A/N: **you all will hate me if I told you this, but this chapter has actually been done for about a week now. I'm sorry, but editing is always a big process because I cannot spell and grammar is key but a constant struggle. I'm sorry that I have to be so lazy guys. However, I would like to take a moment and say _what the actual heck happened to couples & careers like I am just here sobinggggggggg not to mention last night at the rdma's like ugh the fandom is always under attack it seems._

* * *

"I think that Austin needs to pay for Ally and Dez is obviously paying for me. It's kind of in the boyfriend code, guys."

Austin awkwardly clears his throat while Ally evidently rolls her eyes and smacks a twenty clear on the table the four currently inhabit.

"You really don't have to do that," he counters, reaching his hand for his own wallet and turning to talk directly into her eyes. Her impossibly soft and docile hand curls around his wrist as she stops his movement.

"You can just catch me at the next time, I guess," she answers and he's smiling immediately because this is kind of her telling him that the night didn't go nearly as bad as he had thought it did. "Besides, it's only ice cream."

Trish turns to face Dez and his eyes are trained at the couple blossoming right before his very eyes—at least, that's what his mind is thinking—and she breathes in before saying, "Ice cream or diamonds, you're paying because you're a gentlemen."

Austin's eyes roll back and forth at the cheap shot directed towards him, and watches as his best friend open and empty his wallet for the seemingly millionth time for the evening.

He is having a really hard time not noticing exactly how much of a perfect girlfriend Ally would make, given that she's sort of the most perfect girl he's ever met.

* * *

Her wheels screech into Trish's driveway and she pulls her wristlet handbag from the passenger side along with her up the sidewalk. She feels her curls bounce on her exposed back, the halter tie of her shirt leaving skin to soak out in the Miami sun. Her skirt is taut around her thighs, just as flattering as it is scarce: she tries not to think about how she might possibly be wearing it to impress a particular blonde.

Trish opens the door on the third knock and she almost stumbles back with the overpowering amounts of radiance unleashed with a simple smile. Barbarous curls are contained with a ponytail; eyes extenuated with dark liner and her lips a piercing shade of red: in an understatement, she looks like a million dollars.

Then she gets a text from Austin that they're on their way and it dreads on her that she's going out on a date with her best friend and her boyfriend as well as another out of place third wheel. She slumps down in the kitchen chair and reminds herself to be braced for the absolute worst.

In some form of irony, she supposes, she notices that this is actually one of her favorite times to write. She had a one way ticket to distress, hands tangling deep within her tresses and face contorted with anxiety: and once she looks out the window the sunset bleeds into her sight, the waters hidden beyond the beach peaking into her vision as they reflect the golden ambers and flames burning through the atmosphere. She's surrounded by all this beautiful madness and it's irresistible to even her.

Austin shows up on the doorstep along with Dez, an arrogant smirk laced upon his face and conceit bloating in his eyes. She almost forgets to feel alone—having a somewhat considered double date when you're still bitterly single could almost be considered a harrowing cliché—because Austin secretes a genuine smile when he teasingly compliments her outfit and she feels as if she might be able to last at least a meager hour with these inane people.

He opens the car door for her just as Dez does for Trish and then she's suddenly worried that this might in fact be a true double date.

"I hope you realize you aren't going to get with this," she bluntly tells him as she straps her seatbelt over her torso, his gaze landing on her as a grin skates easily onto his features.

"Don't flatter yourself, Dawson," he answers briskly, playing his part as if he were a pro, "we're both playing on the singles team and that's how it's going to stay."

Her face flips into an appeased sneer, laughing with her mouth only slightly ajar before he reeves the engine to life. She leans forward and assigns herself in charge of the radio for the entire night, and he begins to argue before she lets it rest on his number one station of all time.

"I'm so in love with this song," she sighs out before rolling down her window and leaning her whole head out of it, hair flailing into her lip gloss but she just smiles wider and he laughs harder. Trish and Dez tend to their own business in the back seats and they all stick to their own worlds so intently it's almost hard to tell that they are in the same car ride.

A part of his brain keeps reminding him that he always wanted a girl that had just as good of a music sense as him and he tries really hard not to notice that all the songs she claims to love are also his favorites. The problem with that, though, is that she keeps drawing attention to herself, what with the way she's leaning half of herself out the window and squealing in positive delight every five seconds.

The thing about Ally, he observes, is that it's pretty impossible to not want to love her: only the second that thought appears in his mind he pushes it far away, blaming it on the loudness of the speakers and the unexplainable adrenaline coursing within him. He repeats to himself that it's impulse when a pretty girl shows up in a skimpy skirt with good taste in music to be intrigued: but Ally is to remain a friend, a polished law written in stone.

Still, he turns a sharp corner and her entire body makes a melodramatic flail towards him, and he just savors the moment of raucous laughter and teeth filled beams.

* * *

He makes it extremely easy, she supposes, to not want to be on a date with him: his arrogant smirk turns up every two seconds, snarky comments directed towards her outfit and feminism filing out of his mouth at a rapid rate. Although, then again, as much as he makes himself resistible, she finds herself thinking that he is just as irresistible. He takes a liking to making her laugh and she's always been intrigued by those who have a habit of doing just that, and she's counting the times she feels his prying eyes and simpering smile gazing over at her when she's being a bit too chaotic: but for the first time in her life, she can tell that the ogle isn't one of mocking ridicule.

It occurs to her that she's swimming in a deep sea of over thinking, staring too far into his eyes as if they were hers to get lost in. He holds open her door for her when they stop, greeting her with a capacious gape, features lined lightly with laughing lines and smile swept with genial. She tells herself that she could get used to this and willingly lets her mind read in between any lines that ensue.

He begins to sing in the vacant parking lot as they all lug along to the entry doors, his voice limitless as it manages to vanquish any and all silences skating past throughout the air. She wraps her fingers all throughout his own and he spins her form in and out of his own, twirling underneath the dimly lit night sky in a platitude manner. She begins to understand why all those romance stories can contain a similar scene: her skin is bubbling with emotions, heart almost as a blaze as her flushing face.

"You know, you really are a terrible dancer." He breezes his hand over hers as he manages to press his money upon the counter, a sufficient amount that was meant to pay for her as well.

"And you're mister professional, I'm assuming?" She quips back in the idiosyncrasy she'd accustomed herself too within the past twenty four hours, her brassy demeanor coming to play more and more with every passing second she spends with the taller blonde.

"Of course," he shoots back without missing a beat, "And if you really want, I guess I'd be willing to give you lessons. Not free of charge, of course: with this much talent, I'd be willing to take a minimum of thirty dollars an hour."

Ally begins to vacillate her eyes and steals the money intended to pay for her ticket, successfully snatching it from his hands and placing it within the pocket of his leather jacket.

"If this isn't a date, then I can pay for myself." She saunters into the theatre after retrieving her own ticket, his eyes loosely training over her form as he exchanges his finances for his stub. He wonders past Trish and Dez, the two bickering over the candy they were meant to be sharing as the cashier stood idly picking at her fingernails: he makes no hesitant move to duck into the theatre and avoid the confrontation.

He finds himself being drawn to the seat directly next to her, placing his oversized popcorn in her lap and pushing off his coat to let it rest behind his shoulders in the voided chair. She sends a sheepish grin towards him, plucking more and more pieces from his jumbo sized bowl and placing them within her mouth.

"Hey, I paid for that," he jeers as he swipes the bucket of popcorn back from her, poking her side as he does so on unmistakable purpose.

"Your point being?" She says in response, her hand gracefully capturing a stolen handful of kernels and chomping into it before he manages to snatch it back.

"I thought that this wasn't a date, so you can't eat the food I buy," he answers slowly, taking notice of the darkening room as the previews begin to play across the colossal screen.

"That doesn't mean friends can't share a friendly bowl of food, right?" She grabs another scoop and munches slowly, her attention fading onto the adjacent motion picture.

He laughs lightly and turns to face the front, following her lead. "Aren't you supposed to be, like, watching your carbs?" He questions in a whisper, a playful smirk wiped upon his lips.

Her caramel eyes glisten in the limited light, rolling from side to side as giggles fall from her lips. "You've definitely only gone on dates with cheerleaders," is all she says for an answer and he lets a relieved breath escape from his lungs because he was worried she might take the comment a bit too personally.

They speak in whispers for the entire time, laughing all too loudly during the scenes meant to be quiet or even throwing popcorn towards the screen during the scenes they find cliché and boring. It's a wonder why they don't get thrown out, but then they realize that they're only sharing the theatre with their two other friends and the volume of their jokes increases seconds after the recollection.

"Do you think we'll ever hold down a serious, steady conversation?" She questions as the sound of a flipping car plays within the background, metal crunching and explosives ringing out in distress.

His hand forms around his chin as he mockingly plays the part of a deep thinker, face contorted into concentration as he pretends to actually ponder her inquiry. He finally settles on the answer, "At this rate, never."

She makes a swatting motion towards his chest in response to his foolishness, her smile smirking up with circulating eyes. He begins to realize he's watching her more than the actual movie and for some reason he feels as if she could make an awful lot of money if she sold tickets specifically for a show based around her oddly neurotic and intoxicating personality.

They're about a half an hour into the showing when the both begin to assemble that, in actuality, the movie has the plot line seemingly written by a five year old and the directing skills of a slightly advanced first grader. They consider abandoning the theatre and catching up later with Trish and Dez, but decide highly against it considering the inevitable ridicule that would result if they were to be seen exiting alone together. They turn their heads to face the screen and suffer in a surprisingly comfortable silence for somewhat of strangers.

When the ending begins to roll around, the incriminatingly tedious climax wrapping tightly up, his lips fall apart in a faux yawn and then slipped his arm around her shoulders, his sneering expression telling her the same joke she's been hearing all evening. She asks him in a whisper if this is him attempting to put the moves on her and he laughs a lot harder than he should've and rapped back, questioning if it was working. Her figure folded into his chest, her continuous guffaws answering his query quite clearly.

He thinks idly how enough time has passed and it really is appropriate for him to pull his arm back by now, but her radiating heat is so comforting and he might like the feeling of skin pressed upon skin enough to ignore his numbing fingers. The last credit consumes the screen before he graciously removes his presence, and she feels a draft pass over her neck as she realizes how it feels to miss his touch.

"You can't judge if you've never even gone to one," she laughs loudly as she swings her arms in mid stride, legs bombarding towards the car in a gallop.

"Please, its common knowledge that they're terrible," he jibs back and she sends him a sneer telling him that he's stepping on some rather soft ground.

"Broadway Musicals are classic and legendary, end of story." He leans to snap open her passenger side door, Trish and Dez well on their way as they converse by themselves already seat belted in the back seats.

"They're, like, a two hour song and some random fantasy plot. Pass," he answers to her once he himself fits into his defined driver's seat, locking the belt round his waist and revving the engine to life with a flick of his key.

She winds a sigh and gasp together before turning to look out the window, distraught with argumentative manners. "I'm dragging you to Wicked or The Lion King or something, so you can see the awesomeness for yourself," she concludes wholeheartedly as she continues to feign off his stares.

He snorts in a trivial manner and spins the car abruptly around a corner. "Good luck with that, Ally."

She stays silent at this remark because the way her name flooded off his tongue as if it were a bell rung throughout her head, clear sounding and pure as if he could sing it in a thousand different tones, languages, melodies.

* * *

He pulls into a parking lot adjacent to a deteriorating burger joint and she sends him this judge mental look as if he's being the most stereotypical male in the entire country. But then her laugh bubbles to the surface and he realizes that she's actually okay with him being just that.

Trish slides herself into a booth, Dez soon to follow and that leaves the two of them awkwardly bumping elbows and gazes. She orders a root beer and downs it immediately and he can't get over how she's this unrequited present filled with incessant surprises.

Dez orders a chocolate shake and allows Trish to dip her heavily salted fries into it and they look utterly adorable as they banter over this unusual snack food. Ally catches his staring in some form of awe at the couple and she tries to distract him by throwing a fry of her own at him before he can begin to feel jealous. He, in return, sticks his mocking tongue out at her in juvenile fun and then they share a smile that's all their own.

He devours into his bacon packed monstrosity and she timidly eats away at her simplistic cheeseburger in a manner that isn't enough to qualify as graceful because she still does have her eyes closed in lust and mouth opened wide with every bite. He begins threatening to take pictures of her unladylike appetite but then she tells him to bite her and they can't stop laughing even though they've both heard funnier.

They all compile back into the ride and he takes an unexpected turn, deciding to top of the night with ice cream for dessert because he feels as if the nights not ready to be over, not quite yet.

* * *

When he voluntarily places himself next to Ally in the booth seating arrangement this time around, he notices Trish's eye tracing his every move in an analyzing manner that makes him only slightly anxious.

"I think that Austin needs to pay for Ally and Dez is obviously paying for me. It's kind of in the boyfriend code, guys," Trish says as they all consume their respective sundaes, smeared vanilla and chocolate lining the edges of their lips.

Austin awkwardly clears his throat while Ally evidently rolls her eyes and smacks a twenty clear on the table the four currently inhabit.

"You really don't have to do that," he counters, reaching his hand for his own wallet and turning to talk directly into her eyes. Her impossibly soft and docile hand curls around his wrist as she stops his movement.

"You can just catch me at the next time, I guess," she answers and he's smiling immediately because this is kind of her telling him that the night didn't go nearly as bad as he had thought it might've. "Besides, it's only ice cream."

Trish turns to face Dez and his eyes are trained at the couple blossoming right before his very eyes—at least, that's what his mind is thinking—and she breathes in before saying, "Ice cream or diamonds, you're paying because you're a gentlemen."

Austin's eyes roll back and forth at the cheap shot directed towards him, and then watches as his best friend opens and empties his wallet for the seemingly millionth time for the evening.

He is having a really hard time not noticing exactly how much of a perfect girlfriend Ally would make, given that she's sort of the most perfect girl he's ever met.

They all roll along into the car, a group folding out as Dez makes conversation about how he's teaching his turtle to balance a ball upon his nose as if he were actually a seal. Apparently the trainings coming along swimmingly and they all laugh at the unintended pun and the mutual feeling of friendship roots deep within all of them.

* * *

He's driving to Trish's house to drop off the two girls, Ally sitting across from him as per usual and they all sway together to the rhythm of the station the brunette set on the stereo. The conundrum of transportation hits him as he sets his sight upon her handed down Chevy truck, dust and dirt leaving staining streaking marks upon the chipped and faded blue paint. Dez walks Trish to her door and Austin averts his attention to informing Ally that Dez had picked him up from work before they had all joined together, and he would need a ride home.

"Can't we just drop you off?" She asks as her eyebrows lace together into a tight, confused line.

"I live on the other side of town, more towards the mall," he answers with a hesitant bite of the lip, hoping that she'll be courteous enough to give him a lift back to his own home.

"And you want me to take you?" Her eyelids flutter slightly as she blinks her long lashes together, and he begins to wonder if fatigue is immersing within her.

"Well, we've already wasted enough of Dez's gas and he lives on the next street to the right so he'll have to come all the way back, and I think it's kind of unfair to make him do that for me," he states and prays that she doesn't live in this neighborhood as well.

She sighs and rests an elbow upon the sill of the tinted window, a hand meshing into the depths of her hair. "I guess I could."

He thanks her sincerely and clicks open his car door, repeating the action once he works his way to her side as well. They say loose and slow goodbyes to Trish and Dez, the two both disappearing behind doors: one connecting to a house and the other to vehicle.

She unlocks her own truck and he leaps into the dinosaur, rust rimming her hubcaps and door handle. He almost remarks about her driving rather than him, but then he latches onto the fact that she's flipping her keys around between her fingers as if they were her prized possessions and somehow knows there's no way he'll be able to convince her into a swapping of seats.

They make it half a street and one stop light before she flipped on her crackling speakers, finding the quiet a tad unsettling as nerves buzzed underneath her skin. The downbeat of a familiar song bursts out into the air and he watches as her sleep filled form is transformed into liveliness.

"No way!" She squeals loud and uncivilly at once, pulling out the clips within her hair and shaking the tresses in allowance to fall free. Her hand flicks the volume dial to maximum, and then he holds his sides because he's laughing extremely hard and doesn't know if it's even going to be possible for him to stop.

He imagined her having to drive him home would be stuffy, glances being thrown while the other wasn't looking and hands cautiously staying in laps. Here he is, though, head and hands leaning out the window with the wind licking into his scalp and the radio playing 'Fat Bottomed Girls' as deafening as it possibly can. She rolls down her window as well and raises a high and defiant fist into the nightly nippy air, a smile wide as it sings along with the lyrics.

She swivels onto the curb and hops out with the radio still playing, him quick to follow her lead because she's sort of dancing on a turning boulevard that's oddly dead for the evening. He can see the overlapping waters of the ocean tussle against one another as he realizes she had traveled down a street that was leading to a back road to the beach and momentarily wonders if this was her intention.

She's quite spastic and quirky as she throws her hands and hips about, but it's endearing none the less and he doesn't hesitate to copy her flailing actions. He begins to sing along with the chorus, much like her, and then he begins to intertwine their hands as he did earlier in the movie theatre parking lot as he spins her around once more. She fits easy within him, being bound to his grip and she glided her figure to match the rocking beat.

The last verse courses from the speakers and he pulls her from behind, her backside pressed tightly into his torso and his arms overlap around her own front.

Speaking rather than singing, he leans to meet her ear and says swiftly into it, "Fat bottomed girl, you make the rocking world go round."

She giggles and lets her head rest in the crook of his elbow, eyelids lightly clasping together as she slips further and further into him. He takes a moment to remember that he's being slightly offensive, calling the skinniest twig he's ever met fat: but he also knows that she's evolved enough to know he's only calling her curvy and even then it's only a song that he didn't even write.

He sways them from side to side, silence so incredibly quiet that they both hear the waves ringing and thrashing in the distance. Neither of them recognize the next song that plays out but it's talking of first time touches and fresh feelings for someone that might not appear to be the right one but somehow manages to be exactly that: it kind of sounds perfect so they continue to move along with it and not utter a word to destroy the wonderful conversation they're having.

He can feel her heart beat pulsing and thriving beneath her cream coated skin, and he can tell it's fluttering slowly because she's falling unconscious in his safe arms: he likes the way she feels so alive, even when she's slipping away from the world. Her face is shutting down for the day, eyes easily pressed together and lips forming into a loose line. He pulls apart from her and then she stirs once more, holding onto his hand as he ushers her into the passenger side.

She stays awake to mumble out directions to her house, telling him when to take a turn or when to stay on a certain street. She finally sits straight and points to a light blue two story house sitting restfully on a corner, lovely and complete with navy shutters and a wide bay window peering into her kitchen. He places his bearings as he opens her door, knowing his house is a solid twenty blocks or so north and walking at this time of night isn't in the least desirable: but he'll do it, because he knows she's a bit too wiped out to be driving.

She falls out of her seat and stumbles into her house, catching her keys as he tosses them softly to her and she turns right before she shuts the unexplainable unlocked door for the night, making blazing eye contact with him for a thriving five seconds.

"Thank you," she rung out clearer with each syllable, her heels swiveling inside and then he stands still to stare at the closed oak door. He's not completely sure what she's thanking him for because in his opinion, it's really he who should be thanking her: she's sort of unintentionally reminding him what it's like to be the kind of easy and limitless happiness.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sorry, but I hate this chapter with a passion. It is sloppy and I have concluded that I am terrible at fluff. I hope you all somehow managed to like it, and chapter four should be up within this next month, what with all of the new episode inspiration in May :) love you guys

**xoxo**


	4. Music & Masterpieces

**Dedication: **I do believe that we all owe **Jackie is Grey ** a loud round of applause for leaving an extremely sweet review and helping me get off my lazy behind in order to write the chapter. Thank you sweetheart, you sort of made my whole life better :)

**Disclaimer: **I cannot express to you exactly how much I hate putting disclaimers at the top of every. single. chapter. Sorry folks, I don't own anything Austin & Ally related because if I did you would all be mentally scarred from all the steamy sex they would have had by now. sorrynotsorry.

**Inspiration: **kiddies, if you have lots of emotional turmoil, you can write it out in any way, shape, or form. Trust me.

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the wait, but this chapter was a bit of a filler and decently hard to find a feasible idea for. I wound up not hating it as much as I had expected too, which I suppose is good. So I hope you can choke through it and leave a review filled with some of your wonderful thoughts :)

* * *

The very next day her eyes catch the flashing colors of his golden crowning hair as he marches slowly into the store, a rainbow being thrown from his scalp underneath the heavy sunlight cascading in through the windows. His attention is diverted faithfully to his phone and she focuses her concentration back to counting out the pennies in the cash register.

He throws himself on the counter, tossing his legs over the side so he faces her form and she smiles towards him as he greets her.

"Wasn't expecting you today," she says honestly as she closes the money tray, eyes skating towards the entrance as more midday customers make their way inside.

"Dez told me that he and Trish would be stopping by, so I figured why not," he answers with a shrug as he forcefully pushes himself off of his resting place and directly adjacent to her, breathing over her shoulder with their lacking personal space evident but not found significant, as if it were an occurrence that had no reason to draw uncomfortable tensions.

Her father makes his descent down the stairs and pats her on the shoulder gratefully as he talks of allowing her to take a well deserved break, and he makes an over dramatic glance heeded in Austin's direction. She introduces him with clumsy words fumbled through a blushed face, not completely sure how to go about labeling him so she leaves it simply with his name.

She gives him a short tour of the downstairs of the store, not knowing how to make eye contact with him after the night before—last night with the dancing and the delusions and she sort of realized that she isn't following her rules about being cautious around this cutie.

He plucks a flute off the wall and whistles into it, a pitch or two high as he begins to fiddle out a melody similar to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She teasingly grasps it from his hand and places it beneath her own lower lip, slowing the tempo moderately as she drops an octave and every note comes out clear and pristine compared to his rushed masterpiece. She wonders if they could silently banter back and forth in these ways for the rest of the day, challenging each other with their talents over band instruments: she thinks it might crack her top ten desired ways to spend time with a boy, music being something Elliot wouldn't have understood.

She blinks and then they appear to be having a battle of string, bows being tossed in the air as he fluently moves across the strings of his cello, her fragile fingers dancing upon her viola as their concert pieces clash against one another in combat. His head tosses back in laughter because he can't remember when he was being intimidated or threatened in a musical sense.

He pauses to watch her in fascination, her hands working at an unbeatable pace as they sketch out an original pattern, turning heads as she stomps on her very own downbeat and he believes that this country galore she has cooking up could make even him square dance.

She stops at once as soon as she hears an onlooker emit a clap, graciously bowing before placing the product back upon the shelf docilely, her face twisted towards him in a smirk that whispered to him, "I won." He makes no retaliation because he's a talented virtuoso, there's no doubt about that, but she's pure brilliance that has most likely been training since her diaper days.

He keeps peering back to the door, wondering where Dez might be, and moments later his phone buzzes with a notification and it reads that his red headed friend and Trish are making a last minute switch to the beach for some couple time, rather than more time spent as foursome. He lets a ruffled sigh because he feels as if his day has been officially wasted, but then his head tilts up and she sits tentatively smiling, holding her phone to show a similar message from Trish. He gives a slight shrug and realizes he can't be mad at Dez because he still has Ally here, after all.

Lester takes her shift for the rest of the day in an agreement that she picks up an extra tomorrow, and before an eyebrow flicks itself further up his forehead in inquiry she wraps her lithe fingers around his wrist and begins to thrust him forcefully to the upper levels of the store.

He enters her private quarters for the second time in his entire life and for the very first time he sees how he himself could waste hours away in here, what with the wide open windows that stretch to the ceiling and gift the spacious area with fresh bundles of the Miami air, the plush chairs that invite you to fall directly into them and lose yourself, and not to mention the plethora of producing equipment and instruments that line almost every inch available. He turns to see her sitting in front of a recording station, reprogramming some of the demo options and he wonders if she finds herself in the same position every day. He can easily imagine that she does, and he believes that the same would happen to him.

"Might as well have some fun, right?" She says from underneath her eyelashes and for some reason he laughs lightly. She looks so earnest and like she has decently high expectation of him and their afternoon alone together, and he hopes that it'll be everything that he wants it to be as well.

Next she scurries quickly over to her piano and flings open the bench, sheet music piled neatly in rows and she nimbly fingers past page after page, he face contorting with a new emotion each time she scans over pieces. He joins her slowly and reaches a hand to examine one that had caught his eye closer, but she smacks it away and looks back to him extremely shocked.

"Don't touch my music," she snarls out harshly and her eyes ooze with a fiery passion and not to mention an undeniable amount of venom, so he puts his hands up in a surrendering manner before cautiously backing away and mumbling out an exuberant amount of apologies.

She also turns past pages in a darkened and worn leather bound book, flipping fast and he can make out intricate doodles as well as jumbled words and assumes that this must be somewhat similar to a diary. He makes a mental note that it is probably not okay to touch this either.

Her hair makes a sudden flip and he admires how chaotic the curls look, monstrous around her face with gentle cascades as she turns to face him, holding her hand out with an increasingly tight grip around a sheet torn from her journal. Her mouth sits in a taut lipped grin, eyes hesitant with innocence and he wonders if he is the very first person to ever be handed her original music. He reaches a halting hand out and snatches it from her own grasp sluggishly, afraid that she'll make a spasmodic move and steal the song back.

She's doesn't however, just broadens her eyes with concern as she peers over at his expression, waiting for his reaction. Her reads through it at least five times just to make sure he's fully consuming every last note, to make sure that it really it as amazing as it was the first time he glanced at it.

He fixes his gaze back to hers and as his mouth falls ever so slightly ajar she begins to hop from one foot to another in an anxious dance. Her teeth bite down roughly onto her lower lip and she loses eye contact with him.

"What do you think?" She asks in the smallest tone he's ever heard and realizes this must be her one and only insecurity.

He looks back down at the paper held tightly in his hands and the to her once more, seeing her truly vulnerable for the first time and he has a hard time resisting the thought that she is pretty adorable with one wide eyes and pouted lips.

"I think that you need to be produced," he says with an impressed guffaw slipping out halfway through his statement. He pushes past her to sit upon the bench and begins to find the piano chords she has traced out. "Is this the acoustic version?" He asks as he looks back to her, noticing the breath of relief that passed out of her inflated form and the less rigid stance of her legs.

She slides easily into the remaining space next to him and opens her journal to a page with a similar layout, a faster tempo and a section written specifically for an electric guitar as well as a bass. "Uh, yeah. I like the key that one is in more."

Her hand floats up next to his and plays through the bridge, a melody and he runs his along next to her, completing the chords and they keep their eyes locked tightly to each others. His mouth falls open and begins to sing the lower harmony right as her voice swells with the high soprano section, their tones mixing and melting together unintentionally with ease.

Their pinkies unmeaningly bump on the very last note of the entire song and he loops them together as if they were making a promise. Then she's looking at him underneath those long, curly lashes again with that same look of vulnerability and it takes all he has in him to not stare for too long of a time. He makes no move to untangle their pinkies and for a split second he considers tethering the rest of their fingers, but she has a present blush on her face and decides it'd be best if he kept this modest and patient. He can't ignore that there is a _this_, though: there is this thing called fate after all, and he's never been one to hide from it.

"Do you want to write with me?" She asks as her hands slowly materialize over the keys once more, pressing in the most outright and outrageous places that mesh together even though he never would have purposed that they would blend nicely in unison.

"Please?" He breathes out as if she was kidding, him seeing this as a privilege. She giggles and her blush increases, her entire face caught in crimson.

"I have this melody sticking my head," she says with a tentative tone, beginning to switch into a different time signature. "Right now it's just stuck, but maybe you could help me with it."

She keeps progressing so he figures that it's a bit more than something she simply has repeating in her mind, and he starts to clap out a beat because he finds that it feels necessary. She turns and smiles at him, nodding as if she approves and then he realizes that he wouldn't mind if this is how he spent every day for the rest of his life.

He fixes the rough patches that don't match the tempo and she stays silent while continuously nodding, so he assumes that she agrees with the changes he's making and leaves it at that. She tosses most of the song lyrics around but he gives her insight on the meaning behind the entire song, explaining in moderate detail of a guy's perspective and what some of the content should consist of. She keeps smiling wide with all of her teeth as if she loves all his ideas and fills with an arrogant pride.

They strain for at least an hour, but they have the second verse finished and an enormous list of possibilities for the chorus, so they take their lunch break without shame or procrastination present. He walks with his hand on the small of her back all the way to the food court, but for some reason he feels as if it has been glued there and makes no move to remove it: she doesn't either, for the record.

He buys her a strawberry and banana smoothie that she sips happily at, throwing shy smiles towards him every time their eyes come in contact. They both pick slowly away at his chips and salsa and they focus on learning more about one another.

"That's not possible," she says overly loud after a long wrack of laughter, "there is no way in the world that you don't go to the gym and still have muscles like that."

"It's true though! I mean, sure, I do pushups and sit ups around the house, but I'm not a member or randomly go to a gym, like, ever." He ducks his head sheepishly as laughter falls loosely from his lips, an effortless grin ensnaring both their lips.

"Austin, you don't get a six pack from only ever doing sit ups," she defends and begins to giggle once more as his ears darken to a shockingly scarlet shade.

"How'd you even know I have a six pack?" He says unevenly due to his ongoing guffaw and her lips twitch into a smirk, contrary to his expectation of her becoming flustered. Then again, he has to remember that this seemingly innocent girl still stuffs herself into dresses that seem sewn onto her skin and probably parties more often than he does—which is really saying something—considering how confidently she struts around in her skyscraper heels.

"You're not a very big fan of personal space, Austin," she tells him casually but her eyes are doing this seductive slight squint and he suddenly is holding his breath, "you've pressed your body against mine more times than my ex ever did."

Her smirk skits further up her face as the blush falls from his ears to his cheeks, becoming overly aware of the fact that it's really, _really _hot outside, or maybe it really is just her. He reminds himself not to lose his cool and realizes passively that she's the only girl that has ever made him feel so incredibly breathless, whether it be in awe or desire.

He takes a split second to collect himself, clearing his throat and mustering up all of his confidence, "Well, I bet your ex never got very far with you, then. What, first base? Second? Is little miss scandalous a prude?"

Her eyebrows shoot up and he realizes that he's got her feisty side officially turned on now, fists beginning to clench inward with anger and eyes ready to pounce for her defense. "Let's just leave it at Elliot knows his way around my body, okay? Wouldn't want to taint those virgin ears of yours, would we now?"

He pursed his lips in attempt to hold back ridiculing laughter, but her gaze is so intense and she's still managing to pull off that look of sedation, so he calms himself down while thinking over his next quip. He leans forward over the table and lowers his tone to a husky whisper dramatically audible, "That's a lot of big talk for an innocent."

She melodramatically fake laughs and shakes her head from left to right, as if to say he's not quite understanding what she is implying. "I'm no innocent, babe," she muttered only inches away from his face as she leant towards him as well, widening her eyes and puffing her lips out ever so slightly.

"Well neither am I," he says weakly, momentarily caught off guard what with the heat of her intoxicating breath skating across his nose, skin forming goose bumps despite his suspicion of the temperature climbing by the minute.

She throws her head back in laughter and stands, her smile teasing and telling him that she should really be a professional actress, what with the performance of flirtation.

"You're good," he says while slipping sunglasses onto his face and a single arm around her shoulders, them both making their way back to the store, "but I'm defiantly better."

She continues to laugh because they both know she thinks a bit more quickly on her feet, allowing her to have wittier puns at a faster rate than him. She turns and taps his nose lightly with her index finger, as if to symbolize him being the child and her being the adult, but it turns out to be more of a move commonly done by a swinger, what with its adorable flirtation unmeaningly laced within.

* * *

They're at the store later than he thought they would be allowed too, considering the lower levels lights are turned off and her father had clocked out claiming to want sleep at least two hours ago. She slumps herself over the piano, caught between the last lyrics of the chorus and he hasn't fully heard the song all the way through due to his lack of attention, participation, and consciousness.

He's about to fade out for the second time of the night before she squeals an octave higher than her regular tone, startling him to the point of rolling of the couch he was rested on and aggressively onto the floor.

"What, what is it?" He mumbles out in a fatigued manner and she begins to slap his arms in excitement as soon as he stands.

"I finished!" She says while she hops from her left foot to her right, much like she had done earlier, "I finished the song!"

He proceeds to wipe the sleep from his eyes and sits on the piano, wide with wake as she traces the familiar downbeat on a guitar in the seat directly adjacent. He stops her for a moment because he just finished skimming over the finalized first verse and realizes that it's now made up of the scraps he had mindlessly tossed at her hours before.

"Who's going to sing?" He questions because he figures that she wants him to, but if they wind up pulling another hour of work to record the damn thing he wants to make sure she at least does a harmony.

"Oh, uh," she says while sinking her teeth into her lower lip, "I guess I'm not done, I haven't written a baritone part yet. Do you think that we could improvise for the night? I just want to hear it once before we leave, that's all."

He nods and begins on the very first note, following the strict tempo she has scrawled out on the staff and it's hard for him not to look over at her, fully keened into her music: not even caring that her hair is frazzled from the constant hand running through it with frustration, or even her smeared make up and opened button down exposing the camisole she had on underneath.

He reaches the chorus quickly and she chimes in softly, almost as if she is whispering yet she still has the overbearing projection of her voice and he thoroughly believes that he is actually listening to an angel, because Ally is an angel without a doubt.

_"Here comes that movie scene, the one you think is so cliché," _he sings loudly while peering over to her, now full fledged staring at her and she begins to reciprocate his action, eyes unblinking and mouths moving in syncs over the same words.

She's taken all of his advice, seeing as she's included mentions of his collective list of famous romances—Shakespeare put beside Twilight is a contrast that she loops together with ease, no tripping over the words or chunkiness evident—and movies all piled in alongside one another.

He makes a high notice of her adding in the 'starting as friends' bit because that was never mentioned beforehand and yet it's the piece that fits the whole puzzle together. He ends rather speaking than singing but he's staring at her while his finishes up, and her eyes are making him forget the words and it's also one of those moments people talk about all the time, where its only those two people in the entire world and even the sparks move in slow motion.

Then she breaks apart the feelings by standing and screeching over how incredibly awesome that was, and he realizes that he was the only one caught up in nothing and it makes his face fall because he's been serious all day with the flirting and the stares and she must take it all as one big joke, because it's all she gives him in response.

Friendships are hard to view as only that when the supposed 'friend' is so impossibly attractive and has an even more attractive personality.

He supposes that he can make do, though, because she runs down the stairs and he overlooks her from the balcony as she begins to kick off her shoes and cartwheel, this chaotic and half crazed from lack of sleep form bubbling around an empty store with as much energy as a rabid squirrel. He can't stop laughing and then he makes his own descent in order to join her, locking their fingers together as he spins her round and round in circle. She's glowing under the lack of light, eyes still shining as if she were looking into the sun, and he realizes he has a horrid habit of falling too deeply into her, whatever that may mean in whatever instance.

They lock up almost a half an hour after, them getting distracted by the disco ball suspended in the center of the room and the maximum volume of the speakers built into the walls. He drives her home because she makes no move to drive her own car home, just hops simply into his and cranks the dial on his radio. He laughs loudly at all of their jokes and her smile eats away at her eyes, crinkling them into tiny narrow slits with happiness ebbing from her expression.

She invites him to crash on the fold out couch in her downstairs for the night, but he argues with the fact the first sight her father would see in the morning is some strange bleach blonde boy shirtless watching the morning cartoon shows on Nickelodeon, so she nods in understanding and clicks her door closed with a curt wave goodbye to him.

He hums himself to sleep with her song lyrics and writes a few that pop into his barren mind down hastily, wanting to parade them to her again tomorrow, but then realizes she has an all day shift to work and figures that it might have to wait a couple days, so he puts the melody to rest and thinks over how he'll pick up where he left off in the morning.

He has a pleasant dream where she sits next to him on the same piano bench in her practice room, clad in a clean white dress with a long train and beaded bodice, himself caught in a suit and tie. He wakes up anxiety free and smiling, not over thinking anything because she's his friend and he's her friend and that's their story summed up in seven small words, despite all the meaning they may have behind them.

* * *

**A/N: **much love to my amazing readers and I regret to say that you may have to wait until late July for the next chapter, I have finals and regents and vacation (Florida bound baby! unfortunately not Miami but still, Florida!) and a end of year semi formal and god, I barely have time to breath with the studying and preparations and I hope you end=joyed that window that let you look into the chaos that is my life. ramble ramble ramble.

**xoxo**


	5. Makeouts & Midnight Movie Madness

**Disclaimer: **drum roll please...and what do you know I still own squat yay party

**Inspiration: **um, well, I just thought that, you know, a movie night would be cute. That's about it, I'm not that interesting.

**A/N: **I am so sorry for the long wait on this deplorable filler chapter. Really, I'm deeply sorry, this was not worth the wait at all. I promise, however, that if you stick with me for a little bit longer we'll reach the turning point of the story and it will slightly increase in entertainment. Don't hate me, please, I'm trying so hard. ps, my tumblr is ** .com** for all of those who care enough to talk to me and fangirl excessively.

**Dedication: **this chapter goes out to a lovely anonymous reviewer that is slowly working her way through all my stories and is also my best friend in actual, real life. (I'm looking at you slick dick.)

* * *

Ally finds herself staring in the mirror more often, wanting to see herself the way Austin might: she supposes that she has a nice body and realizes that she really has never given it much thought before, surprisingly. She notices for the first time how tiny her waist truly is and how wide her hips branch out from it and wonders if her favorite pencil skirts always make her butt look that large, and then she realizes that she really must be the most oblivious person in the world.

It's been two days since she's seen him face to face and supposes that she does feel a bit off, like she might actually be bored with being by her lonesome. She keeps having all these song lyrics bounce back and forth, even more than usual, and jots them down hastily before she can even think about forgetting them because she can't get it out of her mind that he'll want to write again sometime soon.

Her father throws her out the door of the store halfway through her shift and says something along the lines of her needing a social life, and right on cue Trish lights up her phone with the Latina's face and a call waiting to be answered.

Trish half yells into the phone over Dez's laughter and she makes out enough to know that she's going to need clothing for tomorrow and a pillow, because Trish is hosting a movie night at seven o'clock as a celebratory 'today is Ally's last day of spring break in high school forever' party and right before she hangs up she says proudly that she wouldn't miss it for the world.

Hours later she has her mouth hanging open and laughter pouring out, loud and flowing in a melody while slumped comfortably on the De la Rosa's leather sectional. Dez has diffused the popcorn so it surrounds them on each side, and she realizes that even the floor coated in a light dusting as she hears the crunch underneath her barefoot as she made a move to answer the ringing doorbell.

Trish yells out to her that it's most likely Austin and her mouth catches in a smile that bares teeth due to its width, and she doesn't even worry that she's in her slippers and a tank top. She flicks open the door and he's clad in these broad sunglasses despite the setting sun, and she realizes that she hadn't even considered that he might be here as well tonight.

He steps in as if this isn't the very first time he's ever been in the house and gives her a sort of half hug with his shoulder, arms tangled around bags overflowing with treats. She plucks a few from his grasp and he thanks her, looking as if she had just taken the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

She begins to unload everything that he had bought from the bags and thinks that his intent was to feed an army, cases of candies and a bombardment of bags containing chips. His portion of groceries consists of movies from Red Box and liter bottles of soda, and she wonders how in the world he finds the money to pay for all of this.

"My parents own a store in the mall, too," he says distantly and she wonders if she had been cleverly hiding her baffled shock as well as she had thought. "You know Moon's Mattress Kingdom?"

She simply nods in response and thinks of the colossal building almost directly in the center of the entire mall, suddenly pondering how the epiphany of the same last name never hit her before now.

"My parents buy all our mattresses from there." She moves to stand next to him and traces her hands over several movie titles, stopping abruptly on one as she grabs at it eagerly.

She leaps over into the living room before he can steal a full glance at the DVD she had chosen. She slips it in to the player and they all fall into place within the couch, Trish tucked neatly into Dez and Austin purposely moving a bit too close to Ally. She turns to him and smiles with her dimples and teeth, so he takes it as a good sign and nestles on in next to her.

It takes a solid ten minutes before they begin to hear ungodly noises of lips smashing gruffly against one another, tongues slurping and hands tracing through hair. Ally turns to him with her nose crinkled along with her brow scrunched, and she rises out and into the kitchen as he follows closely behind.

"I hope this doesn't happen every goddamn time," she says frivolously, her voice taut with tension as she mingles throughout the cabinets.

He sighs and sits down at the island counter, eyes caught on the devilish sway of her hips and it takes all of his self control to not lick his lips at the sight. "You know it will, they go at it like rabbits."

Her nose formed back into the wrinkles that had only just relaxed and her whole face consumes itself within a cringe. "That's such an awful cliché, isn't it?"

His shoulders rise in a shrug and she makes a relieved, breathy noise as she pulls a blender out from the space beneath the sink.

"Want a milkshake?" She questions eagerly as she begins to put all her might into scooping tubs of ice cream. He smiles and his head shakes because he can't completely fathom how her mind even works.

Hers is chocolate and his is vanilla and he has this deep craving in the pit of his stomach to find out what the two might taste like if they were mixed together on their tongues. There goes those boy hormones again, goddammit.

She pushes her empty glass far forward on the counter away from herself, cradles her chin in her hands, and heaves out a heavy sigh. Her eyes flash to his and it ignites a fire deep within him without a single hesitation.

He looks back over to the living room and sees Trish and Dez engulfing themselves together, so he turns back to Ally and figures that it might be awhile until they can return to the rest of their friends.

"What high school do you go to, anyways?" He asks because he remembers something being mentioned about this being her last day of spring break while he still has three more before he returns for his last semester.

"Jefferson. It's a private school, all prestigious and what not," she's answers and her eyes begin to roll in ridicule. "I just can't wait to be done with it."

He nods in agreement and his hands start to fiddle with the tip of his straw. "You going to college?"

"New York bound. NYU." Her grin grows and he would bet anything that she has her future nicely drawn out in precise schematics. "What about you? Where are you going after graduation?"

He leans back because he keeps repeatedly hearing this question but the definite answer still seems to fall from his grasp each and every time. "A girl like you, with your talent, I thought for sure you'd be a shoe in at Juilliard."

Her hand makes a move to flip the hair from her shoulder and her eyes resist their urge to roll. "That's precisely the point, I suppose. I like to make sure I'm always doing the unexpected."

He looks at her in a new fashion and doesn't think he's ever appreciated her efforts to be all her own before, so he smiles and brands it in his memory to never let himself forget it.

"You still didn't answer me," she adds with a tilted head and her gaze is very soft, as if she understands that it might be a bit of an explosive territory for him. He curses himself for believing that he could slide something past her.

He sighs and finds that he can't particularly meet her eyes as he heaves his confession off of his chest. The edges of his nails suddenly becoming the most fascinating focal point he's ever come across as he begins to pick at them and tries to distract himself from the riddling confusion that bubbles in the pit of his stomach. "I'm enrolled where it's expected for me to be."

She almost doesn't hear his indecipherable mutter, but then she nods because she can understand how it might be a bit distressing to feel a part of the general crowd. She flips her most encouraging smile upwards at the corners of her mouth and taps his shoulder lightly, gaining his attention back.

"You'll just have to be the extraordinary amongst the ordinary. And honestly, I don't see you having a problem with that," she advises him and his eyes timidly trace over her once more, wondering why her words can come so easily and rain clarity down upon him.

"Besides," she continues on with her smile increasing in size as she purposely bumps her shoulder into his, "with you at Juilliard, at least we'll be neighbors, right?"

He smiles and chuckles because there's that silver lining he's heard about all his life. He playfully bumps his shoulder back at her and a smirk begins to play at the edges of his lips.

He nods his head back towards the living room after they share a moment of astonishingly requited staring and simply says, "C'mon, we better get back in there."

Ally makes her way after him once he stands to swivel back into the living room, and it takes a second for her to process the fact that she's never felt less lonely. She has this horribly accurate suspicion that she can pin the blame on Austin, and she's not sure what that's supposed to mean, but supposes it can't matter much in the long run anyways.

He creates a game out of pelting one Trish who is atop of Dez—straddling intimately in the plain view of the couch while tied at the lips—with an ungodly amount of popcorn kernels and she joins in with haste. He laughs loudly and tosses a few at her too, but she would expect nothing less.

After their fruitless attempts at trying to break up the couple, Ally pulls the bucket away from Austin and sets it lamely down onto the coffee table. He shrugs coolly and tries desperately to ignore the smacking sounds of lips.

Ally puts in one of the several DVDs from the collection he had brought with him and before the first title sequence even makes it all the way through she turns to the other two in the room with a perturbed scowl lining her expression. She leans over directly next to Trish's ear and places her fingers delicately in her mouth, blowing to create an ear splitting whistle and the two shot a part in an instance.

Ally gestures to their set up and audaciously bursts out, "Uh, do you mind? Get a room if you're going to keep doing that." She breaks the eye contact and falls nicely flush against Austin's lounging position.

Trish docilely grasps Dez's hand and slowly leads him up the stair case, his face burned a shocking crimson as he mumbles a plethora of apologizes to the blond and brunette. Ally acts as if nothing is happening and Austin telepathically sends notions of encouragement to his best friend.

The first scene's scoring begins to blare from the television set and she pulls a blanket over the two of their slouching forms, and in order for it to fully cover the both of them she has to further curl herself into him.

She turns her gaze up to him to address him properly and he supposes that she should look sheepish, but instead she blandly explains, "Sorry, I'm a bit of a cuddler." Her head falls down to his chest and he wonders if he can count on this being her usual.

The screen lights brightly with extravagant characters and he's sure that the plot line is just as brilliant as the flashing colors, but he can't quite focus and his mind is reeling too much for him to fully find the reason as to why.

His gaze peers down to Ally and she's mouthing each word from every scene, so he figures she's a bit too engulfed in the story line to truly notice his presence at the moment. He's not sure if he's meant to be thankful to this but his arm slips cleanly over into the crook of her shoulder and allows himself to snuggle into her just as she is to him. His eyes trace over the curve of her body underneath the blanket they're sharing and his lips twitch into an involuntarily soft smile, thinking over all of her. That's a surprisingly disarranged perplexity, to think of all of her at once: she's the equivalent of a star exploding in order to shine all the way down into the earth's atmosphere.

His mind keeps toying around with her, however, and although he's learning how to turn this thought process off its a bit harder when she's right in his physical grasp. His ears want to hear her in the moments when she believes no one could possibly be listening and his eyes want to see more of her in ways that no one has ever been allowed to before, his nose wants to become intoxicated off her delectable scent and his hands have an undeniable urge to feel every crevice of her figure. Ultimately, his mouth wants to taste what her flavor may be, but he pushes these feelings as far down as he can manage so they have no chance of surfacing.

Albeit he lets his mind scheme up the most unimaginable fantasies of the two of them: her at the beach with sun streaked hair and an ice cream filled smiling with him, his surf board in his grasp and his laughter to match the mood. Him squashed against her form on a piano bench, spending hours surrounded by nothing but her and their music. Days wasted away in either of their houses, spent playfully cooking or lazily watching movies and playing video games accompanied with an unhealthy amount of pizza. He'd take her shopping a lot at the mall and make her spin in floral dresses with lots of frills and would spoil her in every way possible. He even worked so far as to imagine their conjoined concert of the legendary Austin and Ally, him playing a guitar while she lullabies the crowd away in her ensnaring and melodic voice.

He had it all pictured out as if the memories already were printed on photographs, neat and orderly without a single distortion. He knows that she can be chaotic; it's even shown in the way she speaks; as if she's lived longer than anyone else at the exact same age as her. He just wishes that he could have the opportunity to know what it would be to be chaotic beside her.

His mind flutters back to a few nights ago when they had written their very first song together and he still sees her eyes, so bright and wide with the promise of excitement. He wonders what it takes for her to be filled with that undying elation. He runs over all the other steadfast memories they've shared and thinks that the sort of bond that they formed has an indubitable amount of beauty all throughout it, especially considering the short time frame.

As much as his mind revolts around the thought due to it's overwhelmingly fairy tale feel, he does believe that they are meant to each other in some way or another.

She shakes him lightly out of his reverie and points inattentively towards the blackened television, and he realizes that he's been so consumed in himself that he missed the entire movie.

"Did they ever bother to come back down?" He asks with a yawn and outstretched arms, referring to Trish and Dez.

She catches his contagious yawn and shakes her head slowly, sitting up from his lap. "No, they've been upstairs the whole time."

She glimpses slightly at the clock hung over the De la Rosa's mantel and sees that it hasn't even struck midnight yet. She turns back to him and her hands fiddle over one another in her lap in a twiddling race.

"Any ideas on what you want to do now?" She asks earnestly and his eyes fixate lively upon something as his signature smirk skates further up his face.

"Oh, I know a good way to pass time."

* * *

Her throat tightens as her panting refuses to cease, sweat bubbled across her forehead and drenching from the nape of her neck down. She throws herself down restlessly on the couch and his feet swiftly dance as the game flashes in neon letters, _player one, level up!_

"Why did I agree to play a dance game with you again?" She wheezes out in an asthmatic manner and he misses no beat or move as he answers her back, fully in control of his breathing.

"Because you're a naive little girl." His tone comes out smooth and she is fully aware of all the conceit her current state of failure is filling him with.

"Reset the song," she thunders out as she stands and cracks her neck from left to right. He looks firmly at her and his head shakes in a ridiculing rack of laughter as his hands work to restart the song they had chosen.

"If you want, I can set your difficulty level back," he says feebly and the melancholy grimace she sends his way in return tells him that he'll receive a rather painful smack if he so much as mentions lowering her to a more easy level again. His laughter insisted and her eyes blaze in a competitive whirl.

The music starts and she starts to sporadically flail about in the systematic order the game dictates. Her feet fly over the checkered pad beneath her and she worries that he might be moving more fluently than her, as per usual.

She keeps up with all of his moves for more than half of the song with only one or two blunders along the way, but her score is only a few steps behind his and her ego begins to inflate rapidly. She wipes a damp hand over her brow and makes a point to connect their eyes so she can secrete a devilish sneer pointedly at him. Right before she loses her own focus on the proper dance moves she flashes a wink at him and that slips him up for barely a sliver of a moment, but it's still a fault and their scores fall dead even.

Her teeth show as she grins rather maliciously and she impulsively changes her settings to the very highest of difficulty, therefore doubling the amount of points awarded to every correct step. There's a mere thirty seconds left in the round but she's determined to lock first place in her name.

He looks nervously to her screen and hesitantly increases his own settings with a look of uncertainty. She smiles as she sees her window of opportunity and flips her entire body to inwardly face him, keeping her half of the split television screen in her peripheral.

"Austin," she purrs out, eyes batting irresistibly with broadness. His Adam's apple bobs dramatically as he audibly gulps but his concentration stays clearly on the directions ahead of him.

"Austin," she salivates out once more in a sedative murmur, "don't ignore me, baby." The edges of her lips curve up as she sees him fluctuate over into her command. His feet never pause but they do miss a single beat and she climatically takes the cake on the game.

She laughs loudly while holding her ribs and he just about loses all of his composure when he sees her high five herself. He offers her a congratulatory high five from himself and she eagerly takes him up on the invitation. He holds onto her palm for a second longer than needed and he pulls her into a sticky, perspiration filled embrace. Her nose crinkles and her entire face cringes as she pulls away.

"I'm not hugging you when you're all sweaty, Austin. You smell bad enough on a regular basis," she taunts him and falls back down onto the couch, him following her action quickly.

"Don't get cocky on me, Ally. After all, I did let you win," he defends himself as he takes a swig from his water bottle. She blows a condescending scoff from the back of her throat and smiles disbelievingly at him.

"You and I both know that I just won fair and square, Austin. No one likes a sore loser." She stands and her back faces him as she removes the game disc from the drive and places it delicately back into the case, and he smiles unmeaningly over her thorough tidiness. Another movie begins to play and it appears to be at a much lower key pace, so he assumes she wants some sort of back ground noise to fall asleep to. He throws a few good natured bits of popcorn at her, even when she turns back around to face him, and her smile persists as she makes no move to deflect them.

She sets a pillow for her head to rest and pulls the blanket they had shared earlier over herself, and he gets the memo that she's ready to go to sleep. He figures that he's meant to be crashing with her down on the couch, seeing as Trish hasn't come back downstairs to accommodate to any more of their nightly needs.

He slips under the same blanket as her once he flicks off the last of the lights, the both of them sleeping feet to feet and even being comfortable with their close proximity. He lies for a moment and stares at the ceiling without realizing that she was doing the same thing.

"Are you going to need a ride to school tomorrow morning?" He asks in the midst of the silence and she's startled from his random outburst, even if it was rather a whisper into the darkness.

"Uh, yeah," she answers slowly through a thick and tired voice, "that'd be great. Thanks."

Neither of them makes another sound for a few more minutes, hearts racing almost as fast as their minds.

"Goodnight, Austin," she utters right as she believes she's falling into the realm of unconsciousness.

"Goodnight, Ally." Is the very last thing either of them says for the evening and she hates herself for thinking it, but she really could get used to hearing that each and every night.

* * *

**A/N: **I have never hated a chapter as much as I hate this one, once again it is a filler and we're close to the actual rising action / plot turn, it'll be alright. keep reading and please don't hesitate to spam with reviews, they really help me stay convinced to keep writing and that you guys don't hate my work. love you guys!

**xoxo**


	6. Studying & Staring

**Disclaimer:** no dice, chica. No owner of Austin and Ally here.

**Inspiration: **I recently had to help tutor a student (way back when school was in session) and turns out, he's quite hilarious as well as smart. Nothing happened between us but I had thought that it would be adorable if something were to happen between Austin and Ally.

**A/N: **whats sup, peeps? Pretty fast update right? I figured that I might as well spoil you guys, considering this should be the last filler chapter. Next time around, things should begin to heat up! At least, slightly. ps, my tumblr (since last chapter it was cut out) is whatsupwiththisguys .tumblr .com minus all the spaces.

**Dedication:** this is my present to** Dreamerlove15 **for being incredibly amazing to not only me and my stories, but to the entire fandom. Thank you sososososo much! :)

* * *

School hits her twice as hard as soon as she returns. Despite contrary clichés, her senior year has been in no way a breeze. Her entire schedule is packed with college credit courses and not a single one is skimpy on the essays or projects. When she's not hunched over a text book she's in the music room, running the drama club rehearsal vigorously in attempts to assemble the end of year show. If she's not helping choreograph and direct the drama show, she's working a double shift at Sonic Boom, writing and then rewriting her valedictorian speech, and trying to find the time to bust out a viable song. It isn't often that she finds herself without a head ache.

It's been a decently deplorable day, the first half involving stairs and a scalding cup of coffee and the slip of a foot initiating a fall, receiving an A- on a French exam and she swears that the actors in the show are purposely not memorizing their lines just to irk her. Her night hasn't been going much better either, oodles and oodles of homework and preparations for her enriched European History quiz this Friday. It's passed eleven o'clock and she has at least another hour to go on an English paper and her Physics diorama could use a few tweaks and touch ups as well.

She's in the midst of debating the pros and cons of ripping all her hair out due to her raging levels of stress when her phone begins to vibrate in a berserk manner.

Her initial reaction is to simply brush it off, she barely has time to sleep let alone socialize. Her eyes avert back towards her open textbooks and she immediately grabs the phone, desperate for an excuse to procrastinate. She wasn't sure who she was expecting but her heart begins to spin and she's not sure when she began smiling but she does know that she can't stop. She taps twice on the screen and her new text message opens for her to read.

_From: Austin_

_Received: 11:47 pm_

_please tell me you're still awake, I need help with my calculus homework_

Her smile breaks out into modest giggles, the thought of him turning to her for academic help because he believes that she'll know the answers immensely flattering. She clicks on the reply button while leaning back against her desk chair.

_To: Austin_

_Sent: 11:48 pm_

_you're in luck. what's the problem?_

She impatiently waits for a moment or two for his response before retreating back into her own work session. She manages out a sentence and half before her phone goes off again.

_From: Austin_

_Received: 11:52_

_don't know how to explain it. can I call?_

She starts to type out a yes, but then her eyes flit to the clock and the time brands itself into her mind. She knows that she can't afford to sacrifice anymore of her hours of sleep, her yawns are lasting over a minute as it is. Dejectedly sighing, she erases what she had written and restarts her message.

_To: Austin_

_Sent: 11:54_

_sorry, too busy right now to call. meet up tomorrow, yeah?_

She barely has the chance to set her phone down before it rings once more.

_From: Austin_

_Received: 11:54 _

_I'm holding you to that. text me when to meet you at the boom. night :)_

Her fingers fiddle over the screen before she closes her phone for the last time of the night, indulging herself once more in her work.

_To: Austin_

_Sent: 11:55_

_goodnight Austin. see you tomorrow :)_

* * *

She's elbow deep in an end of term paper while buzzing through her fourth cup of coffee for the evening when she realizes that she forgot something important. She forgot something incredibly, horrifically important.

Her mind begins to waver over her defense, spiteful thoughts sent to the people in the schools production for keeping her there longer than necessary and to every last teacher that loaded on assignments when she had to work a double shift at Sonic Boom. Her pencil falters and she's beginning to feel sick to her stomach with guilt. Not once in her life has she ever blown someone off, let alone when she was working five straight hours at the exact location they had planned to meet: meet only when she told him to come over, that is.

She fishes her phone from her messenger bag in an instant and ponders how she never heard her ringtone the three times he had called her. She brushes past all the voicemails he had left for her and skips right to dialing his memorized number. He's still not answering by the fourth ring and the pit in her stomach grows wider, fretting over how much she must have disappointed him today.

Her eyes wander to the clock and she realizes that it might be a stretch to believe that he's awake even later than he was yesterday, but his groggy voice pours into her ear. A sigh of somewhat relief rushes from her pursed lips and she breathes out an entire tangent in one short second.

"Austin, I'm so so _so _sorry I blew you off. I totally didn't mean to, it was an honest mistake. I've just been so busy, school work and drama club and then my father won't let up on my hours at the store and I'm just so sorry, I feel terrible—"

"—whoa, Ally, calm down. It's okay, I understand. I figured you just got hung up and accidentally forgot. No biggie." His tone is lazy and more guilt swells within her heart for waking him from sleep.

She's quiet for a moment and isn't entirely sure on what to say. "I'm sorry for waking you up," she squeaks out in a minuscule voice and he just chuckles in response.

"Stop, Ally. You don't need to feel guilty," he says with a more assertive timbre, motion heard in the background and she can picture him sitting further up in his bed.

"You sure you aren't mad at me?" She adds tentatively after another pause passes.

He laughs once more and this time it feels haughtier. "Do I sound mad?"

She smiles and her hand runs over the lined paper in front of her, the blaring blank spots inviting her to continue writing. She yawns involuntarily and wishes that she won't have to hang up on him anytime soon.

"I'll make it up to you, promise," her tone is no longer taut and he smiles as she relaxes into the conversation.

"You free this weekend?" He says with a sort of excitement that she hadn't expected to hear.

"Not entirely, but I'll see if I can pull a few strings. Does around eleven sound good for you?" She questions while running her schedule over in her mind, praying that her father will be lovely enough to let her have the day off.

He nods eagerly and wonders why she doesn't respond until he concludes that she can't see him. "Oh! Uh, yeah, sounds great. See you then."

She yawns once more and begins to pack up her school work, figuring that she'll have to cram the rest of the rough draft in during her study hall. "You bring all your textbooks and a notebook to write in. I'll bring the coffee and my professional tutoring skills."

"Professional? Should I expect to be paying?" He jokes, a hand slipping behind his neck as he leans back onto his headboard and stares meaninglessly at his ceiling.

She breathes out a tinkling laugh and he knows that she's too exhausted to manage anything more. "Goodnight, Austin. See you Saturday."

His grin is soft and his heart throbs, impatient to see her in person for the first time in over a week. He hopes and prays that she's just as ardent as he feels. "Can't wait. Goodnight, Ally."

He has a hard time biting back his tongue because he has this potent temptation to add something more, maybe a 'sleep tight' or a friendly and joking 'love ya' but her line goes dead before he can muster the urge further.

* * *

She spent the two days before they planned to meet preparing for yet another one of her legendary teaching sessions. The calculus curriculum seems light years away, honestly, and although it was among one of her favorite courses she much preferred her current discreet math class. If she were to be any help, she might as well make sure she's somewhat familiarized with the work he must've been dealing with.

She strolls into the store rather early, considering the time frame they had set. She keeps the closed sign facing out wards and wanders past the cash register all the way safely into their practice room. She throws her messenger bag into a nearby chair and momentarily freezes as she realizes that she had referred to her private quarters as something shared by the two of them.

He waddles on up the stairs a solid ten minutes before they agreed to meet and his eyes are startled as they find her figure. Her back and neck are arcing uncomfortably over her bookwork and her pen is making an ungodly fast scrawling noise. He moves closer after shutting the door behind his heels, taking in the makeshift table she had put together along with the vacant stool juxtaposing hers.

He flings his backpack onto the ground directly adjoined to the raised island like table. He pulls the stool out from underneath and right before he takes his seat she acknowledges him, a vastly beautiful smile and her eyes were brighter than he remembered them.

"Hey, Ally," he greets casually while containing his grin, his insides bubbling in an overzealous manner. He notes that her bangs are twisted back in braids and her curls are as unruly as ever, only her face a bit more exposed than he's ever seen. Her rosy shirt matches the natural shading of her lips and he feels a tug on his own that he can't resist.

She looks towards him once more and before she manages out her own hello, he barrels on. "You look nice."

Her eyes revert back down and he sees her bite her lip, quite literally biting back her smile. When she faces him once more her checks are delicately flushed and her eyes look clear, as if he is free to read right into her. He makes no hesitation.

"Hey, Austin. Nice to see you." Her voice has some form of disbelieving yet flattered tone to it. The contact his eyes keep locked on her doesn't falter even when he reaches down to collect his own textbooks. He attempts to preserve a smirk for image purposes, but her head flickers back up to his and he could swear that her heart did too, and needless to say his jubilant smile stretched limitlessly.

Her brief gaze brakes rather hastily and yet his eyes have this indubitable urge to stare. He worries slightly that she might feel the intensity that has no ease to it, even as seconds pass.

"Good to see you, too," he answers and then averts towards the desk, fresh and empty notebook ready for usage sitting plainly in front of him.

She pauses and places her pencil down, ending her own work in order to help him. "I was thinking that we'd start with any unit that you've been confused on so far in the year, you know, just to make sure you didn't really miss anything that could be on your regent's exam."

He nods and runs over the past few months in his mind, figuring out his most troublesome and confusing points: the only answer he finds that seems plausible is the entire school year.

"Honestly, the whole years been pretty hard."

Her sigh is melodramatic, pondering what she might've just gotten herself into. Granted, there's never been a case she hasn't been able to handle, so she puffs up her chest and revaluates her game plans.

"That's alright, then. Just grab your textbook and we'll start going over the very first chapter. No worries," her voice is very even and her patience matches the loveliness of her smile, it's so wondrous.

He heaves a nervous puff of air and opens his book to the very first page. "Let's get started."

At first it's an understatement to say she's distraught over how little he's been taught in his actual classroom with a licensed teacher. His hands run through his hair until it's completely sticking up on all ends, the frustration ebbing into his very appearance.

She processes him enough to understand his major confusions and breaks them down to the barest minimum point until he fully knows what he's meant to be doing. He keeps thanking her and her face often freezes in a deep blush, mumbling out humble excuses of how it's not really that big of a deal. He's polite about the whole ordeal and to say that he's appreciative for her boundless tolerance is an understatement.

"Alright. I now understand continuous functions, continuously differentiable functions, all the forms of a concave, and even converges. And I can even do those sorts of problems without a lot of confusion," he says once they move onto their fifth chapter, and his head is pounding in all the ways that he hates. She looks over, startled abruptly by his closing of both his textbook and his composition notebook.

"Yeah, what's your point?" She wonders, thinking that they still have six more chapters to go until their officially caught up to the unit they're currently covering in class. They are only beginning to scratch the surface.

He sighs and rests his face in the cup of his palm, his sinking grin impoverish. "My point is that my brain is turning to mush from being over worked." He pauses before sitting straight up once more, the eagerness in his eyes returned and just as plentiful. "Let's go grab something to eat, yeah?"

She giggles as she stands, her hands closing around the journal she carts along with her everywhere. "I've never seen you not hungry. You should be fatter considering your appetite, don't you think?"

He skirts his shirt a few inches up to reveal his carved muscles, each pack of the six nicely defined. His smirk is conceited as ever and she doesn't bother refraining from rolling her eyes. "Nah, I think I'm okay," is all he supplies for an answer.

Her feet carry her to the door and his eyes only follow the sway of her hips, close to salivating at the amount of intoxication they have a tendency of giving. She opens and gestures outward with a few more good natured chuckles at his expense.

"You coming or what?"

He stands and rushes out and races down the stairs, only turning to see her standing at the landing moderately amused at his comical character. "Race you to the food court!" He challenges with a juvenile stutter, circling back on his heels and charging out the door in hopes of leaving her in the dust.

Her head floats back as she laughs with gusto, and she slips out of her ankle breaking shoes before she swiftly follows in his footsteps. She's no quitter, and she has a long list of people that would argue in her defense that it's a rare day when she loses.

She pillages towards him and once his golden hair twinkles directly ahead of her, she kicks her feet even higher and sprints with all her might in order to catch him. Laughter is continuously pouring from her mouth and he almost believes that he hears it, but figures its common enough in his dreams and he's only hallucinating as usual.

She's only a few feet behind him by now and just as he peers back over his shoulder to see if it is her laugh he's hearing, she tackles him straight to the ground. Her gut is just about busted by now and he's even joining in, and albeit the pain the sidewalk leaves him in, the only thing in the world he's aware of is her on top of him, facing one another with wide eyes and tones lacking their signature condescending banter.

"Hi," she giggles out with stunning features, her smile so wide he's afraid it might break her cheekbones. His fingers play with the ends of her hair and he wonders if his smile resembles hers: it's almost defiantly affirmative.

"Hi yourself," he responds playfully and she begins to release him out from underneath her, even being courtesy enough to extend an aiding hand for him to use to stand.

He stands without her help as a bit of an ego booster as well as an attempt to play hard to get, but by now he's taking in the fact that they have a little bit longer of a walk until they reach the food court.

"So, I'm thinking the winner was most defiantly me," she arrogantly proclaims, her embracing grin replaced with a sneer of narcissism. His eyebrows rise at her unbreakable confidence, and as much as he would like to defend himself to her, he can't manage to comprehend his own thoughts.

They turn into the food court and he notes the garden ambiance flushed with blooming flowers, and on a simple impulse he leans to pick the few that catch his eye. He passes them to Ally with a starry and dazed smile, and her beam grows as her fingers grasp the novice bouquet he had thrown together.

She picks a scarlet shaded one with large petals and twists it behind her ear and he wonders why he even plucked them to begin with.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" She says after he pays for both of their slices of pizza. Her eyes look clouded and he thinks that the fog might not have completely lifted from her mind as it did his. All in good time, he reminded himself.

He sheepishly turned to the ground and lightly skidded a pebble out of his way. "I know, I'm a nice guy."

He pulls out her chair and she wonders if he's always done that and she just hadn't noticed, and suddenly she's sure that she needs Austin to stick around for as long as their friendship can possibly prevail. He laughs at every one of her corny jokes and comes up with a few puns himself, and she doesn't think he knows how much that it means to her.

She takes a long sip from her drink and their eyes stayed locked. His shoulders are comfortably slouched and one eyebrow flies upward in inquiry.

"What?" He questions as her eye contact becomes more and more notable.

She sets her cup back down and her arms fold over her chest subconsciously. She sighs and shakes her head at him. "Nothing."

* * *

He's sitting on the counter much to her disliking, but the dinner hour is near and the store is clear of customers: he has a bet that it'll be clear for the rest of the evening as well. She's hunched over a tuba and elbow deep with a scrubbing cloth, polishing vigorously as she had been with many of the other brass instruments. He truly doesn't mean to stare but his gaze just keeps averting back over to her and eventually he has to give into his sinful temptations—at least, that's how his mind justifies it.

She has a pair of high waist shorts on and they accent her petite figure to an intense degree, and contrary to the heels she wore earlier, she had traded them for her emergency pair of flats kept under the counter—the more time he spends in the store the more he realizes that Ally has made it more her own than the legal proprietor, her father. Her legs look lithe and thin, so flexible as well as toned, appearing to be graceful enough to swirl in a ballet. All of her, every last inch: it was enticing him; from the dip in her upper lip to the sloping curve from her waist and downwards. She looked soft, especially small, as if her could pick her up and place her in his arms with barely any strain.

"You're really tiny," he thinks aloud and her head whips around rapidly, curls fanning out in twirls. Her face contorts into a confused expression as she glances down at her body, scrunching self-consciously as he traces over her as well. He hops down from his peering perch and advances forward to her only slightly.

"What do you mean?" She asks with an unsure voice, as if she doesn't know whether to take his words as a compliment or an insult.

"I don't know," he answers with a lazy shrug while he walks closer to her. He tentatively fits his hands on the small of her waist, the tips of his fingers brushing together on her back. "You're just really tiny."

Her mouth falls open in bewilderment, forming a fitting circle shape. Her cheeks flame brightly along with the tips of his ears from his grip upon her. She clears her throat dramatically and he relinquishes his clasp on her thinness.

"Sorry," he stutters with mediocrity along with dishonesty. She fiddles for only a moment before regaining her composure, trying to remember the last time she had been rendered speechless by anyone, let alone some boy: then she catches herself and thinks moronically, he's not just _some _boy. As complex as they may be, that particular detail seems painstakingly obvious.

They stay in closer quarters for a moment more and he finds something else to fixate upon. "Is your hair naturally that curly?" He reaches out and caresses a lock of chestnut and gold, and her own hands reassuringly run through a section on the other side.

Ally breaths out a relaxed sigh as she almost always does when she regains composure, and a simper returns to her face effortlessly. "Yeah, it is."

He looks at her in awe, never seeing such naturally done ringlets. "Really?" He asks incredulously.

She nods as she moves past him, reverting back to her work. "Yeah. I used to flatten it out a bit more, thinking that it looked better half straight and half wavy. Then Elliot accidentally saw it naturally down after I got out of the shower,"—Austin's eyebrows climb half way up his forehead in an instant and she's sure she won't be able to smear the smirk off his lips for days—"And he liked it better this way, so I guess I just never grew out of the habit."

He nods in understanding, and he begins to trace her steps as he follows her around the store. "So, tell me more about this shower incident with, what was his name, Eduardo?"

She snorts in pure ridicule as she flips the sign to read close, knowing that they need to get back to the sole reason he even came over today: to study. "Elliot. His name is Elliot." Her heart gives a light pang at the memories that flash by her eyes and her smiles falls into something much more delicate.

Austin takes notice of her nostalgic tone and he feels a flame ignite after hearing a different boys name rolling off her tone with so much fondness. He shifts his feet awkwardly as he realizes she might not be aware of his presence as she reminisces in her mind.

She revolves back to him and he gives a docile grin in response to her, knowing that she hadn't gotten too caught up in some far off land of memories. She stares plainly up at him and after a few seconds pass he speculates that she's taking some sort of mental picture of him.

She breaks away from him and dejectedly says, "Back to studying, then?" Her enthusiasm slips in half way through and he can see the weariness drawing itself out onto her face.

"Yeah," he answers, but he worries that it might sound weak so he adds in, "Yeah, I'd like that."

She starts up the stairs and he follows her suit, their books just as they had left them not an hour before. She begins to read the introductory to the eighth chapter and he internally groans as he feels the very last shred of ambition for the day shrivel up inside of him. He flicks his eyes back to her and her mouth fluently pronounces all the lengthy vocabulary terms for the unit. He unmeaningly smiles for an uncountable amount of reasons, but the first that comes to mind is because beauty positively ebbs off of her.

They work for a few more hours until the clocks are reading an absurd hour of the night. He yawns dramatically while stretching out his arms and she shuts the textbook carefully, her eyes droopy and wishful for sleep. He offers a ride to her house but she shushes him brazenly, whisking over to the closet and plucking out the first few blankets her hands find.

"I keep these here for nights like this," she explains tiredly as his eyebrows knitted together tightly in one ongoing line of disquisition. He nods in comprehension and agrees that it's a suitable plan, another yawn being proof that he's a bit unreliable to be driving.

Her eyelids crush closed and that's the last he sees her awake for the evening, not even earning a socially polite offer of a goodnight. He purposely ruffles his hair in a mix of frustration and frenzied restlessness, and before he tucks himself into the mass obstruction of plush pillows and blankets, he fleetingly pressed his lips to her forehead without a second thought. He pulls the blanket further over shoulder and whispers her a goodnight and sound sleep wish not loud enough to stir her.

He lies beside her and wonders what it might be like if he were to close the gap resting plainly between them. If he were to wrap her in an embrace, the both of them cuddling even through their exhaustion and falling asleep with one another's heat as a bonus blanket. He thinks that her father might come to check on her in the morning and is unsure of the repercussions if Lester were to see his only daughter, alone, with some teenage boy spooning her—despite being fully clothed, mind you—and only being able to assume the worst of what had happened last night.

He compromisingly turns to the other side to reduce the surge of temptation she inflated him with; a hopeful thought that if she were out of sight she would be out of mind. The irony is that all he sees in his dreams is her angelic smile and her vividly harmonic laugh presents itself as well, imprinted into his mind lacking a beat of hesitation or doubt.

* * *

**A/N: **there you are my lovelies, please leave me some amazing reviews. The next chapter may take awhile to write, it depends on how much response I get. The more, the faster I update. thank you guys, love you!

**xoxo**


	7. Friends, Fights & Foreshadowing

**A/N**: hey howdy ho :) first off, thank you for the overwhelming results to last chapter! Seriously, love you guys and all the reviews! I will be continuing to hold off writing the chapter until I reach a certain amount, however, because the way I see it, this story has around 90 followers—eeek! Thank you guys so much!—and your all have the ability to leave at least a one word review :) Still, hope you guys like it. (& don't think I won't update if I only get few reviews, seriously, I love you guys and all your support and I feel like I'm coming off as some sort of stuck up bitch, but I love your feedback and would love to read even more of it :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Austin and Ally, nor do I own the song included in the chapter: Pretend by Secondhand Serenade.

**Song Inspiration:** Give a Damn by A Rocket to the Moon, Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran, Glowing by The Script, Treasure by Bruno Mars, Gone Too Soon by Simple Plan, Pretend by Secondhand Serenade.

**Dedication: **this chapter has one solid dedication and sort of an appreciation shout out. First off, thank you to the one **guest review** that picked out my hint to which state I live in :) for those of you who don't realize, the Regents exams are only taken in New York and I believe California, not entirely sure, and I had mentioned them in the last chapter even though it made no sense. The actual dedication goes to **smileysteph **due to her outstanding writing pieces.

* * *

The best way he can describe the time since he first met Ally is rushed. The initial starting with her was slightly rough, not entirely sure if there was some form of chemistry between them or if it was pent up lust. Friendship meshed fast and frankly, he's considering her as a more dependable option for his favorite friend than the current forever-flaking-for-Trish red head. Honestly, he's had some disturbingly intimate conversations with the girl, and it all feels as if they had become close overnight. In reality it's been a plethora of nights, days, all of the time in the world mixed into one—but looking over it all in retrospect they formed such a close alliance insanely quick, fast enough where it seems a bit bizarre.

Then he sees her face in his mind with a fit full of laughter not only in her smile but her eyes, the rosy blush lining her cheeks and nose crinkled cutely—and not a moment of it feels bizarre in the least. She makes sense of the improbable, and perhaps that's a reason as to why he keeps getting drawn back to her.

They've been seeing each other relentlessly for the past two weeks, not only studying his calculus and her French—turns out that's the one class he is actually better in than her—but doing normal, teenage friend things as well. He drove her down to the beach after school so she could catch up on her reading while he did the same with the waves, and they had stayed late in the dunes with stars overhead and hammering in their hearts. She had him over to the boom on a Saturday night graveyard shift and he made her laugh recklessly while crashing cymbals loudly together. Basically, he knew that she was something he had been faithfully looking for when in reality he need only wait for the find.

Saying that they spent every minute out of school together recently was a bit of a white lie, he amends to his thoughts. She had given him a handful of rain checks for her drama club rehearsals and overwhelming sessions of homework. She had much more of a life outside of him, her job and extracurricular and volunteer work and apparently, she also made time to hang out with some of her other companions. His mind said typical teenager, yet somehow with her it sounded more like saint.

Still, she filed out time specifically for him, and although some of her greetings sounded halfhearted and fatigued, her smile was spread so wide at the sight of him. It was nearly sinful how much he enjoyed every last inch of her.

He sat and waited in her most adored cafe—the tiny one on the corner of an unrevealed street that barely scraped the bottom of the barrel each month, but surprisingly had a killer mocha latte, extra foam to dip his nose in just the way he prefers—and although he had his textbooks already set out, he felt as if the lovely Monday night wasn't going to be spent reviewing them.

He made a habit of showing up particularly early to any one of their meetings, knowing that she appreciated when he cared enough to not only be on time but to go above and beyond that. She herself had drilled in the routine to be ten minutes early to just about everything, and he figured that if she thought he had a similar quality to her, she might feel a bit more than appreciation.

Although, today he sat lonely with his second cup of coffee and an unanswered text message sent to her. It had been over fifteen minutes since they had scheduled to meet, and the wavering gazes to the door must have seemed a tad pathetic to any onlooker. He had assumed that he was overreacting, after all, it was most likely just a practice that ran over by a long shot. The performance is in two weeks, and managing the show must be beginning to become quite the handful—yes, that makes much more sense than her standing him up. As if someone could stand up his puppy dog eyes and floppy golden hair, not to mention his top notch body and angelic facial features.

No matter how many egotistical pep talks he internally gives himself, five seconds later he's vulnerable in her hands once more while staring longingly at the door. His sighs become increasingly frustrated and once he passes the twenty minute late mark, he's huffing out unintelligent words. If it had been any other date with any other girl, there was no doubt in his mind he would have stood and left without a hesitation. Not to mention next time he were to run into her, he would make quite a skeptical and make sure she knew it wasn't him that was at a loss.

This was Ally, however, and he couldn't care less about the amount of time he had to wait in order to see her: as long as he got a measly five minutes with her, he would be content. So he sat and twiddled with the tip of his straw some more, feigning interest in his filling notebook and pushing the worrisome concern for her to the very back of his brain.

Next thing he knew his clock read that she was a half hour late, and right as he picked up his phone to call she stumbled in through the door, welcoming bells chiming and earning the gaze of everyone in the cafe. He stood abruptly, uncertain as to why, and she turned to face him with elated eyes and his only response was a wide eyed gape.

She walked over to him, no teeth showing and yet her smile was still quite consuming on her lips. "Hey, Austin," she greets eagerly, "I wasn't sure if you had stuck around this long."

He stands in state of bewilderment, his mouth making no motion of closing for the time being. "Uh, yeah, hey. Hi. Yeah, I'm still here, I guess."

She giggles as he stutters and takes the seat across from him. She pulls her phone from her bag and then looks back to his now sitting form with an extreme amount of guilt sketched across her face. "I must be the worst. First I blew you off, like, three weeks ago, and then I barely have time to see you, and now I show up ridiculously late. God, I'm sorry."

She seems it, too, he notes. Her eyes are widened with hope for forgiveness and her body language is devoted to his attention. "Ally, really, I understand," he says, even though his mind is slightly fuming and his temper feels short.

"You're just the best," she breaths out relived before she answers her buzzing phone. His jaw sets thinking of how she couldn't find the time to answer him back, when he had been here patiently waiting and silently panicking.

He shrugs modestly and replies, "Yeah, I know I am." She answers her phone with a soft expression and he finds the momentary silence unsettling.

"So do I get any explanation as to why you're so late? Did you rescue a cat from a burning tree? Were you abducted by aliens? Has the zombie apocalypse started?"

She laughs lightly and he considers it one of his greatest accomplishments. She shakes her head brutally and gives her phone a light flip shut. "Nah, sorry to disappoint. No fascinatingly sci-fi exposition for me, or hopefully anyone today."

He chuckles in response and pauses to let her continue along her reasoning as to why she's so late.

"Alright, ready for this epic and amazing story that will totally explain why I'm so late and still very, _very_ sorry about being so late?" She asks, baiting him along and he animatedly nods in encouragement.

"Okay, so yesterday this guy was transferred into my advanced placement music seminar class and you know, me being the best student in said class the teacher asked me to get him situated." She takes a breath and he nods once more, as if signaling that he follows her so far and wishes for her to continue on. His fists tighten and the vein in his temple pulses until it appears as if it might burst right on open at the thought of her talking cheerfully with this supposed transfer guy.

"Anyways, so we were sitting in class going over whatever composition and he said his name was Dallas, like, how perfect is that? And we were just chatting and what not until he mentions something about how he just moved here to finish up his senior year and since he's in all these college courses—basically all the ones I'm taking!" She adds brightly with a squeal, only to shake her head and have her face fall slightly.

"Of course, his classes are all at different times than mine, and, um, what was I saying? Oh! Uh, yeah, so he just moved here and was saying how he wanted to join some sort of extracurricular, but wasn't sure what would still be available considering there's only, like, three weeks left before end of year testing begins. And so I had been all smooth, because, ya know, I wanted to hang out with him more because he seemed cute and was totally funny, so I suggested that he joined drama club and how we could use an extra hand backstage."

His eyes were caught on her lips and how fast she ran over all her words. She took a well-deserved pause to catch her breath and while he gained composure of not only noticing her wondrous looking cherry lip gloss, but the developing crush that was emerging within her story. He had believed he was somewhat of a developing crush for her, and the possibility had his stomach tumbling over itself in a fit of cartwheels.

"So today in class I convinced him to stop by at practice, and it turns out that he's this amazing singer and while the actors had their break, he showed me all this scoring he had done from his last schools show. I mean, how perfect would we be? We could write together and then sing together and I can just see it now. Ally and Dallas. Wait, no, Dallas and Ally! Doesn't it just sound marvelous?"

He refrains the urge to scoff because it's completely obvious that _Austin and Ally _has an unbeatable ring to it. He can barely swallow he's feeling so helpless, just yesterday it had seemed clear cut that it was them who were meant to be writing. Now here she sat, only a day later, running off in a fantasy with some music seminar dweeb she's only spoken to a handful of times, and not even out of school.

"Oh! And the whole point is, he stayed through the entire rehearsal just to run around and do all my errands, and by the end he agreed to be my assistant, and so we were putting away all these props and he mentioned this great record shop downtown that had some of the show's track list on some old vinyl's. You know me, I can't resist vintage, so he drove me down and I may or may not have gone completely crazy and bought not only the set list from the show on a mint condition record, but half the store as well."

She sighs contently, obviously happy with how she had spent the afternoon. "Anyways, long story short, we were in the middle of checking out when I remembered that I had a very important prior engagement, so I made him drop me off here and before we did he asked for my number, hence why I'm texting."

He offers a rather pathetic smile in return that doesn't bother with teeth and his heart won't stop its unruly clenching. "That sounds great, Ally. Some good, classic vinyl's are always worth a little delay."

She smiles widely in response and he thinks he may even detect a bit of a blush, but the lightings poor and he's in no mood to get his hopes any higher up. "We should totally go there sometime. You'd love it, I just know you would." She pauses for a thoughtful moment. "Dallas kinda seemed, I don't know, bored. I don't think he's into music as much, but that's okay. It's hard to find people like us that are total die hards."

He internally brightens and adds a metaphoric point to Team Austin. "We really are a rare breed, aren't we?" He asks and she begins to giggle once more.

She retreats to the counter to get her coffee order and as soon as she returns to their table she's enthusiastic about jumping straight into work.

"Look, Ally, as much as I love our stress filled examination preparations, I'm thinking we only have so many more nights of high school to procrastinate all our work. I say we forget all this studying for the night, and just go do something that, I don't know, won't make us want to give up on all humanity and work at some minimum wage paying fast food restaurants for the rest of our lives."

She laughs loudly and quirks an eyebrow upwards. "That's an oddly specific premonition."

He laughs in response and swats at her hands while shrugging. "I may or may not have given it some serious thought before." They both laugh harder and he begins to shush her. "No, but, in all seriousness, let's get out of here."

He looks up to see her smiling down at a message on her phone, and just as he starts to compete for her attention she snaps her head up faster than she snaps her phone shut. Their thoughts align and she breaths out something that sounds similar to regret and temptation.

"Alright. Let's go."

* * *

His stomach becomes increasingly taut as his laughter heightens. "So we're just running around the mall, half past midnight, Ally's frantic and the goose is still trying to fly away, and the security guard can't catch up and is yelling something about how he now understands why his mother never wanted to have children."

Dez chuckles haughtily and salts his fries more, looking up to Austin for more on the story. Trish smiles widely and laughs with a bright expression, amused to hear the crazy antics her best friend had gotten into the previous night.

"Well? What happened next?" Dez baited on, the rest of their lunch table leaning forward in interest and sharing a fair amount of their own laughter as well.

Austin bites into his lukewarm slice of pizza and sips from his equally tepid bottled water before speaking. "Well, I grab Ally's hand and rush her forward, and she's tripping over her feet and in screeching 'Austin, Austin, stop, slow down! He's catching up, oh shit!' and I'm trying not to laugh, because we're about to get busted for smuggling a goose out of the Chinese diner we ate dinner at and the security guards a complete weirdo. It was a total 'what the hell' kind of moment."

He paused and continued to nibble on his lunch. Trish leaned back with more racking laughter, turning to Brooke—a pretty brunette who once harbored an extreme, slightly stalker-like crush on Austin during their middle school days, but has since matured and rationalized majorly—to share a thoughtful look in order to address the simper Austin had been proudly wearing since the moment he stepped foot on campus this morning.

She turned back to face her blonde best friend and said, "With Ally, basically every memory is 'what the hell.' I remember this one time, we were—"

"Hey, hey," he cuts in with melodramatic offense, "my story isn't over yet."

Trish sighs and gestures out a hand for him to continue on. "Get on with it, lover boy."

He prematurely rolls his eyes at the snark and barrels on intently. "So, back to what I was saying. We're just randomly running and trying to find a place to escape, and suddenly she pulls me to the right and I basically fall on top of her out of surprise, only I didn't really fall.

"I guess I put a lot of my weight on her, because she just fell backwards into this little pond set up that the mall has. I'm trying to dive and save her as soon as I realize what's going on, and so somehow we both tumbled down into this five foot deep, miniature body of water, and the goose takes off the second it gets its freedom.

"To sum up, I spent last night with one Ally Dawson on this ridiculous goose chase, literally, filled with law breaking and one in the morning swimming, while you guys were being boring and lame in your cozy little beds, fast asleep."

They all snicker in response and he sits with an overly content smirk wrapped around his lips. Dez promptly rolls his eyes and sighs.

Leaning over to Trish, the redhead discretely whispered, "At least none of us spent last night wimping out for the millionth time, stuck in the friendzone forever."

Trish giggles menacingly and Austin raises a rather scared and curious eyebrow, deciding to brush the couple off seconds later as the remaining bits of his pizza fulfills his attention once more.

* * *

Ally smiles and relaxes herself back on her bed, sighing with relief into the phone. "Trish, he's just so cute. He wants to get together and study for all our college courses, and he kept staring at me yesterday. He even called me adorable! Like, how sweet can a guy be?"

Trish nodded and continued to paint her nails, her phone resting on the table adjacent to her with speaker mode activated. "That's really great, Ally. But isn't studying sort of you and Austin's thing?"

Ally scoffs, shaking her head in disagreement. "You've got it all wrong, Trish. I tutor Austin, and we hang out. We're like, best friends now. Dallas wants to see me outside of school to study for classes that Austin isn't even in. They're totally different people, totally different situations."

Trish blows on the second coating of pink on her nails, not completely appeased with them yet. "I know, I know. I'm just saying that you can't just forget him and focus on the Dallas dude."

Ally sits up and rests her elbow on one of the several pillows adorning her daybed. "I'm not going to forget about Austin. I told you, we're really close. He even told me he wants me to be his permanent songwriter. Sort of like music partners, you know?"

"More like life partners if you ask me, sweetheart."

Ally leans back and narrows her eyes in suspicion. "Is that what this is about, Trish? You'd rather have me date Austin than Dallas?"

Trish sets down her bottle of clear polish and picks up her phone, deciding this is too important of a matter to be taken halfheartedly. "Ally, I'm not about to tell you who's better for you. I know that you know what's best for you, and I'm not, like, your manager or anything. All I know is Austin showed up to school insanely happy today, and I've never seen him _that_ happy on school grounds, ever. Not even on Taco Tuesday. And I know during lunch, he couldn't shut up about you and your little adventure last night."

Ally secrets a soft smile and quickly resorts back to the matter at hand. "He really is fun, isn't he?"

Trish sighs and wonders if her friend has realized the dilemma she's inevitably going to face sooner or later. Considering she hasn't realized the nature of her and Austin's relationship quite yet, she supposes that it's best to postpone any complications for now.

Huffing out a tired breath, she amends, "So, tell me more about Dallas and how he smells like a summer breeze."

Ally's face transforms into a beam. "Gladly."

* * *

By the time Austin rolls up to Dez's driveway for the evening, he's expecting to be bombarded with loud cackles and broadening smiles for the rest of the weekend. He is unfortunately a bit late: maybe forty minutes late, but it's not as if he could control the traffic and how right before he left his house, his hair decided to limply flop rather than lively flip. What was he supposed to do, leave without reapplying hair gel meticulously?

He figures he'll strut in proudly and snicker something about being fashionably late, and if he has any luck, Ally just might roll her eyes and shame him with her wit. He rummages his overnight back out from the passenger side and excitedly rushes out of his car and into the house.

Dez, compared to Trish's and his own home—seeing as he's never actually been to Ally's, so he can't nominate her house in the competition—is defiantly the best fit to entertain. His basement is somewhat of a game room, a foosball, hockey, and pool table stuffed into the same space containing a flat screen television furnished with surround sound. Not to mention the mini fridge and minutiae kitchen, the dart board, and the extensive set of video games he had acquired from over the years.

The formal kitchen upstairs was stocked nonstop, his parents encouraging friends to come and eat to their hearts content. They had been major fans of entertaining, despite their insane work schedules that kept them on the clock at all times. The porch wrapped around three quarters of the house, the last left to be a more comfortable patio with a fire pit and a hot tub dug deftly into the ground. It was a rare occurrence when Austin was not spending his weekends here: at least, it was before both boys had busied themselves with the girls.

It was a paradise, the whole lot, and he figured it might be even more haven like with the three best friends he's ever had. The front door is left unlocked and judging by the lacking of light inside, he assumes that they had decided to party out back on the patio. He has no complaint and hurriedly runs to the back door, throwing his bag onto a vacant chair as he moves.

He opens the sliding glass door to reveal Trish and Dez sitting beneath the stars on the swinging outdoor furniture. A small fire flickered docilely in the pit, marshmallows and chocolate sitting on a corner table along with miscellaneous bonfire foods.

"Hey, dude," Dez greets lazily, "glad you guys could finally make it. Where's Ally?"

His head turns to the side in perplexity and his nose crinkles along with the rest of his features. "What?"

"Didn't you pick up Ally?" Trish pipes up, the same sound of dumfound in her voice. "We thought that's what was taking you guys so long."

He shakes his head and makes his way close to the pair, stealing a folding chair from the fire arrangement. "No, I didn't. I haven't seen Ally since the other night."

The three share a look and Trish quickly pulls out her phone, investigating further.

"Hang on, let me text her."

His leg begins to twitch and a flush of anxiety runs through him. Dez had gotten the RSVP from all of them just last night, and from the group text they had all shared, the timing of their get together was punctilious.

Ally had answered Trish's text at a lightning speed, and he wonders exactly what the Latina might have included in her message to get such urgent feedback. Trish's lips curl devilishly into a smirk and her eyes glint happily with mischievous.

"She's fine, guys. Dallas and her just got caught up, she'll be here within the next hour or so."

He has an urge to release a pent up sigh, but the mention of the suddenly notorious Dallas only makes his muscles stiffen more. This character had the audacity to make Ally tardy twice now, and although he knew Ally had a habit of losing track of her inhibitions—and as much as he found that one of her most endearing qualities—he did not care for how Dallas seemed to erase them single handedly in a second.

He had heard a tale or two of her past, the parties and the boys and the pressure she ebbed away with ease the moment she pulled out her ponytail. This past was in no way behind her, either, more so lessened due to his presence and what it demanded from him. He isn't to say he hasn't had his fair share of high school; he's had the cliques along with the drunken nights that blur blindingly in his memories. With the time they had spent glued to one another, they didn't have much time to go out and socialize with much of anyone else.

He was fearful to think that she may even have more experience than he, her energetic and outgoing personality promising to have a story of living behind it. Trish had mentioned to him that she was the type of girl to involve herself in long term relationships, and although this calmed him majorly, it also weighed on him. If she were to only have a few boyfriends in her review mirror, that's a guarantee that she's been through a tremendous amount of deeply rooted emotions and heartaches.

Still, she found her way to fit scandalous in her life, and he did appreciate this. He was one for a dynamic and explosive time as well, it just worried him that she affiliated with those sorts of situations more than he had. He didn't like to think that she might have been exposed to some drama that he had yet to face.

"So is she officially dating him yet, then?" Dez's voice spins him back into the present, the hushed and careful tone meant to be shared with only Trish. He wondered idly how long they had been in the intimate conversation, and whether or not he missed something important.

"No, not yet," Trish answers and he breathes out a loud of steam, "but if I know Ally at all, it's only a matter of time."

He perks at this, and he's not entirely sure if the other two had noticed. Dez murmurs something else out and he can't quite decipher through it.

"Ally has a real thing for brunettes," Trish vocalizes in a muttering tone, but it's still blunt and loud enough for him to clearly make out. "Both Elliot and Ethan were brunette, and I've seen a picture of Dallas. He's exactly her type."

Austin sits unamused, running a hand through the hair he had fussed over so frivolously before. The point seemed like a lost cause now: unless he could get his hands on some dye along with nerve, he was to remain a blonde.

"Can we please just roast some weenies, or something," he utters uselessly, his levels of perturb not shying away at all in his tone, "this is incredibly boring."

Trish throws him a judgmental sneer and Dez just stands to collect some of the fire pokers from inside. He turns his chair to face inwardly to their cookout and he tries to plow over all his queasy feelings. It had been awhile since Ally sent that text, right? She should be here any moment. Did she intend for Dallas to stay? He wasn't sure if he was up for a weekend with two couples all by his lonesome. Wasn't she supposed to be on the same side as him, playing the joint part of Dez and Trish's third wheels?

So far, his mind plowing was going extremely unsuccessful.

He downs two cans of soda and roasts a handful of marshmallows before she arrives. It's been over an hour since he had pulled into the parking lot, possibly verging towards two by now.

He doesn't bother to look up when she greets him, just nods to address her politely along with a curt grunt. Trish gives her a wolf whistle while commenting on the length of her shorts, and he decides to steal a glance at her outfit. His awareness of her creamy, curved and elongated legs heightens due to the damnable swatch of clothing she's passing off as shorts. Dez smiles and directs her to the s'more ingredients he has laid out.

"Oh, thank god," she sighs with a tremendous amount of theatricality. "I'm so starved, I can't wait to pig out on junk food and sodas. I've been looking forward to it all day."

"Almost as much as you've been looking forward to sticking your tongue down Dallas' throat," he mutters under his breath with no intention for anyone else to hear.

Her hair fans out and she whips her head around to fully face him. "What?" She says ignorantly with a curious twitch of an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," he answers horribly sarcastic and although everyone is aware of his insincerity, no one presses further.

She sits next to him in the adjacent folding chair and leans forward to place a marshmallow on one of the prepared sticks. She twists open the bag and some of them topple out into the fire, and while she attempts to tend to the overflowing amount of mallows, she manages to slice open her palm with her poker.

"Owe! Goddammit," she rasps as she flinches backward, and he launches himself over to her in an instant.

He uncurls her fingers to reveal the shallow laceration, and he carefully caresses the underside of her hand while standing the both of them up. She peers upwards to him and her eyes look hesitant to his earnest expression.

"Hi," she breaths out and once her cinnamon scent skates up to him, he momentarily forgets how enraged he is at her.

He clears his throat piercingly and she snaps from her haze. "Let's get you inside and fixed up, why don't we," he offers meekly and Dez interrupts as well.

"Nah, stay here. Me and Trish will get the bandages, we'll be right back." The two excuse themselves inside and he sends a telepathic air of hatred for them leaving him alone with her.

"This is ridiculous," Ally remarks with slight frustration. "It's a little scratch. I'll live."

He shrugs and looks away from her, not comprehending exactly who she is anymore. Her life was always passing in such haste, he himself was proof of that: he had flew in only so long ago and was already a high contender on her importance scale. He could only assume that some similarity must become of Dallas, seeing as he was pillaging ruthlessly into her life without a sign of stopping.

Although, the relationship he shared with Ally was something rather particular, that was a fact. They had created quite the foursome with Dez and Trish and the friendship had bonded into something that could be associated with inseparable. They had solidified a musical partnership that had been planned to continue even when they depart for their universities, thankfully still within a ten minute radius from one another. She had told him that she had never found anyone easier to confide in, not even Trish, and that as irrational as it was, she had put more faith in him than anyone else in her life. He doubted that Dallas could have revoked that status from him in the terse time he had spent with Ally.

He looks back to her and knows that of all the things he's beginning to question, he'll never have to question whether or not she'll look back towards him.

"Maybe I should just invest in a bubble wrap suit for you. Or just coat you in caution tape so people know to be extra careful around you." His smirk lightens teasingly and she looks mildly offended at his little quip.

"Maybe I should buy you a giant neon sign that says, 'I'm a major asshole' to make sure no girl will ever fall for your charm," she answers and he claws at his chest, faking an actual physical wound.

"You're ice cold, you know that, Dawson?"

"I was taught by the best, Moon," her eyes roll in the fond way they always do when she slips him a compliment that's not actually flattering.

The door opens and Dez leans half way out of it, the tousling of his hair an explanation as to why they've taken so long to return outside. He tosses Austin a small box of what he can only assume is first aid supplies for Ally's injury.

"Hey guys, me and Trish are kind of getting cold out here, so we're just going to throw in a movie downstairs, if you want to join." Dez says as he fades back inside.

"I'm not," Ally declares as she steals the bandages from Austin's grasp. "I'm going to eat at least one s'more, goddammit, even if it takes me a million tries to make one."

Dez shrugs impassively and shuts the door, knowing Austin wasn't about to leave her alone out here. Especially next to a fire: with her luck, she would fall in.

She starts fiddling with the wrapper of a bandaid and she can't quite manage to open it, the blood increasing its flow from her wound making it hard to maneuver. He sighs tiredly and takes it from her hands, feeling like a parent of a meddlesome child.

"Here, you better let me," he tells her strictly but with a hidden amount of compassion she still caught on to. He pauses, pondering for a moment. "I'll make the s'more, too."

She stomps down a foot in helplessness, but knows there's no room left to argue with him. His stern expression indicated that his word was finite. She sits back into her chair and he crouches down directly next to her, taking her frail hand into his once more.

He opens an alcohol wipe to clean her up, and finishes dressing the wound in an oddly cryptic fashion. She rolls her eyes at his intensity over what was barely more than a paper cut.

"Stop it," he roughly huffs out, his eyes beginning to revert out of the narrowed slits from his concentration. He gives his work another once over and sits back into his own seat, content that she'll heal nicely as long as she doesn't mess with the bandage.

"Stop what?" She innocently answers, although she is uncertain as to what he was referring to.

"Stop acting like it isn't that big of a deal. You went, like, half way through your hand with a rusty fire poker. You might even need stitches."

She lifts her hand to inspect it, flexing her fingers until she feels a dull throb of pain. She continues to shrug it off, convinced that she's in no state of dire distress.

"I'll survive," is all she offers up as a response. "But not without the s'more you promised me."

He throws her an incredulous look, and moves back over to start roasting a marshmallow. They interact silently for a bit, and while the quiet stirs around them, he feels the anger towards her pool inside of him once more. His knuckles begin to whiten due to his crushing grip on the stick dangling into the fire pit.

There was no doubt she had been neglecting to talk to him about the sudden shift Dallas was presenting. They had never openly discussed the possibility of something more than friendship between the two of them, and it was unsure whether or not either of them even really wanted to peruse a relationship due to the risk it presented. The way Dallas put such a defiant stopper to any option they had before, however, deeply upset him. He liked to know that they had some sort of unvocalized claim to one another: he had always assumed it was mutual, but apparently she failed to feel the same.

She was being incredibly selfish, as well, being tardy to commitments for a boy, irresponsibility as present as the cliché in that. He had known her to be a tad scattered brained before, but never completely thoughtless—and especially of other people's feelings. She was shutting out quite a lot in her life, and he didn't think that she fully realized what she was doing, either.

"Isn't it a beautiful night?" She breaks into his mind swiftly.

"Yeah," he spits out as a response, the animosity evident.

Her soft smile falters into something more of bewilderment, wondering what was suddenly haggling on him. "Alright, Mr. Rude, didn't really need your sass. I was just saying."

He figures that she's trying to amend his lapse with some banter, but her words only make him boil more. "I didn't sass you, I just answered. I agreed with you, what more do you want?"

She sits forward in agitation, disturbed by his abrupt change in moods. "Jesus, Austin, chill out. I was just saying that it's a nice night, is all. What's your deal?"

He scoffs harshly, the brandish in his tone highlighting how ironic her asking him what _his _deal was to him. "My deals just fine, thank you. What about you? What's going on with you and your deal?"

He can tell she does not understand where his mood came from, but knows that the only way for her to expect it would be to crawl up into his brain. She was good at being intuitive, granted, but she wasn't that good.

"Uh, I don't really know what you mean, Austin. I'm not the one being bitchy, mind you," she snaps back and aggressively folds her arms across her chest. "You're burning my marshmallow, by the way."

He ignores the roasting task and focuses on retaliating at her. "_I'm _the one being bitchy? I'm not the one who won't shut up about some douche she's just met, Ally."

Her mouth falls open and doesn't associate his outburst with jealousy, even though he was fearful of how clear it was becoming. Her jaw seals and she begins to speak with gritted teeth, "He's not a douche, Austin—"

"Oh, please, he's even worse than I am. He joined drama club in hopes that you'd sleep with him, trust me. I know how the teenage boy mind thinks." He stands and turns his back to her, blowing out the flame that attached itself to the charred marshmallow.

She stands and rips his shoulder around, bringing them face to face. "You don't even know him, you ass. He's not just after my panties, unlike you."

He sputters for a moment, more out of outlandish belief than anger. "Are you kidding me right now? You've known him for how long, Ally?"

"Not much longer than I've known you," she challenges with a sneer and crossed arms.

"And let's keep in mind that in all the time you've known with me, I've never made you forget plans that you made with your so called best friends. He doesn't care that he's affecting the rest of our lives, too, or even bothering to acknowledge that you have a life outside of him."

"What's your problem, Austin? Are you worried that Dallas is clockblocking you? Because I promise, you won't ever have a shot with me," she fires back and he doesn't have to pretend to be wounded by her words this time, because he genuinely is and it shows, too.

He turns and he kicks the plastic chair she had been sitting in moments before with all the might his pent up aggression allows. He faces her again and sees that she's shrunken slightly away from him, scared by his outbreak.

"My problem is you're not letting me be free from you," he grumbles out before marching inside, slamming the door shut juvenilely like the true child he is. She lets out a disgruntled moan and places her face in her hands, too heavy of a payload for only her neck to support at the moment.

She gives his chair a solid kick before sitting measly on the patio blocks, lamely deciding to eat the raw s'more materials in a desperate state. She runs over their exchange in her mind and finds a surprising amount of inspiration in some of the retorts he threw at her.

Sighing, she stands and wipes the crumbs onto her overly exposed legs. Once she's inside she takes hold of her book and makes her way to the piano Dez's family kept in the corner of their living room.

She doesn't bother to write, feeling too overwhelmed to do anything other than play. She guiltily hopes that wherever he is in the household, he'll be able to hear her with clarity.

_"So please let me be free from you, let me be free from you, and please, let me be free, I can face the truth_," she sings out and her hands waver over the keys before pressing down tentatively. Her mind races almost as fast as her heart and more lyrics surface, the sequence to be decided later.

"_Your eyes, telling me lies, and making me find myself, while you have your agenda, a life to pursue_," she starts once more and it's hard for her to stop, so she doesn't bother trying to.

He sits lonely atop of the stairs, out of any view point of hers just to be safe, and he feebly frets over her developing song in silence. He knows he had keyed some of the theme, but for the main portion, she was on her own freelance. There was no constant pattern to anything he had known she was feeling, and he figures that the song is invented on imagination more so than reality.

The only fear he has left is that it might not be her singing for him in the tense that he wants to be free from her, but she may want to be free from him.

* * *

**A/N: **alright, so this was the longest chapter in this story so far, and maybe my favorite but I'm not sure yet :p sorry for the emotional roller coaster, but I made Austin a bit more moody instead of the cookie cutter Disney version, just for a bit more realism. Leave a review telling me what you think of the plot twist! (sorry for the overused love triangle of AllyAustinDallas, but I'm unoriginal and didn't know how else to spice things up)

xoxo


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